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►

IZUNB-SKNK»HDdVNKW-WWERT— Y

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k*

*,_ m * m ■

xv.a

This edition is in twenty-four volumes
and is limited to one thousand and fifty
copies, of which one thousand only are
for sale. This is No.

.••V

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• m •

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•*.•.•.

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• •

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• ••

• •

• •

* m /^ r—

• •

» *

• • *

• •

• ••

• •

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• • •

«
•

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• • •

* •

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION page xj

Bibliographical Note xxxiij

THE ROOTS OF THE MOUNTAINS

Chapter I. Of Burgstead and its Folk and its Neigh-
bours i
Chapter II. Of Face-of-god and his Kindred 1 1
Chapter III. They talk of divers matters in the Hall 17
Chapter IV. Face-of god fareth to the Wood again 24
Chapter V. Face-of-god falls in with Menfolk on the

Mountain 33

Chapter VI. Of Face-of-god and those Mountain-
dwellers ,38
Chapter VII. Face-of-god talketh with the Friend on the

Mountain 48

Chapter VIII. Face-of-god cometh home again to Burg-
stead $$
Chapter IX. Those Brethren fare to the Yew-wood with
the Bride 58
Chapter X. New Tidings in the Dale 6 1
Chapter XI. Men make Oath at Burgstead on the Holy

Boar 67

Chapter XII. Stone-fece telleth concerning the Wood-
wights 72
Chapter XIII. They fare to the Hunting of the Elk 76
Chapter XIV. Concerning Face-of-god and the Moun-
tain 80
Chapter XV. Murder amongst the Folk of the Wood-
landers 85
Chapter XVI. The Bride speaketh with Face-of-god 9 1
Chapter XVII. The Token cometh from the Mountain 95
Chapter XVIII. Face-of-god talketh with the Friend in
Shadowy Vale 1 02
Chapter XIX. The fair Woman telleth Face-of-god of

her Kindred 106

••

Vlj

Chapter XX. Those two together hold the Ring of the
Earth-god 1 20

Chapter XXL Face-of-godlooketh on the Dusky Men 137

Chapter XXII. Face-or^godcometh home to Burgstead 147

Chapter XXIII. Talk in the Hall of the House of the
Face 157

Chapter XXIV. Face-of-god giveth that Token to the
Bride 1 60

Chapter XXV. Of the Gate-thing at Burgstead 1 6$

Chapter XXVI. The Ending of the Gate-thing 1 78

Chapter XXVII. Face-of-god leadeth a Band through
the Wood 185

Chapter XXVIII. The Men of Burgdale meet the Run-
aways 196

Chapter XXIX. They bring the Runaways to Burg-
stead 210

Chapter XXX. Hall-face goeth toward Rosedale 218

Chapter XXXI. Of the Weapon-show of the Men of
Burgdale and their Neighbours 224

Chapter XXXII. The Men of Shadowy Vale come to
the Spring Market at Burgstead 232

Chapter XXXIII. The Alderman gives Gifts to them of
Shadowy Vale 244

Chapter XXXIV. The Chieftains take counsel in the Hall
of the Face 247

Chapter XXXV. Face-of-god talketh with the Sun-
beam 260

Chapter XXXVI. Folk-might speaketh with theBride 267

Chapter XXXVII. Of the Folk-mote of the Dalesmen,
the Shepherd-Folk, and the Woodland Carles : the Ban-
ner of the Wolf displayed 273

Chapter XXXVIII. Of the Great Folk-mote : Atone-
ments given, and Men made sackless 279

Chapter XXXIX. Of the Great Folk-mote: Men take
rede of the War-faring, the Fellowship, and the War-
leader. Folk-might telleth whence his People came.

The Folk-mote sundered 284

• ••

V11J

Chapter XL. Of the Hosting in Shadowy Vale 292

Chapter XLL The Host departeth from Shadowy Vale:
the first Day's journey 302

Chapter XLII. The Host cometh to the edges of Silver-
dale 308
Chapter XLIII. Face-of-god looketh on Silverdale: the
Bowmen's battle 313
Chapter XLIV. Of the Onslaught of the Men of the
Steer, the Bridge, and the Buff 325
Chapter XLV. Of Face-of-god's Onslaught 333
Chapter XLVI. Men meet in the Market of Silver-stead 342
Chapter XLVII. The Kindreds win the Mote-house 352
Chapter XLVIII. Men sing in the Mote-house 356
Chapter XLIX. Dallach fareth to Rosedale: Crow tell-
eth of his Errand: the Kindreds eat their meat in Silver-
dale 360
Chapter L. Folk-might seeth the Bride and speaketh with
her 366
Chapter LI. The Dead borne to bale : the Mote-house re-
hallowed 370
Chapter LII. Of the new Beginning of good Days in
Silverdale 373
Chapter LIIL Of the Word which Hall-ward of the
Steer had for Folk-might 3 74
Chapter LI V. Tidings of Dallach : a Folk-mote in Silver-
dale 379
Chapter LV. Departure from Silverdale 382
Chapter LVI. Talk upon the Wild-wood Way 391
Chapter LVII. How the Host came home again 392
Chapter LVIII. How the Maiden Ward was held in
Burgdale 397
Chapter LIX. The Behest of Face-of-god to the Bride
accomplished: a Mote-stead appointed for the three
Folks, to wit, the Men of Burgdale, the Shepherds,
and the Children of the Wolf 406

IX

\

ILLUSTRATIONS
William Morris, from a photograph by Emery Walker

done in 1 8 89 frontispiece

Three pages of Kelmscott Press type:

a. The Golden type, from an unprinted lecture, " The
Early Literature of the North "

b. The Troy type, from an unfinished romance

c. The Chaucer type, from The Earthly Paradise:
"The Story of Acontius and Cydippe"

between pages xyj-xvij

INTRODUCTION

HERE is the progress of The Roots of the Moun-
tains as shown in the home-letters of 1 889.
On January 29, my father wrote to Jenny : "Did
I tell you in my last that I had begun a new tale? I don't
know whether it will come to anything, but I have written
about 20 pp. in the rough. This time I don't think I shall
c drop into poetry,' at least not systematically. For one
thing the condition of the people I am telling of is later
(whatever their date may be) than that of the Wolfings. They
are people living in a place near the great mountains. I don't
think it is worth while telling you anything more of it till
you hear some of it done, as the telling the plot of a story in
cold blood falls very flat."

Then in March he told her, " I have been writing out my
rough copy of my story and have done a good deal of it."
He had thought of killing the Bride at first, I remember,
but she was spared to marry Folk-might ; " it would be a
very good alliance for the Burgdalers and the Silverdalers
both, and I don't think sentiment ought to stand in the
way."

On April 26 he wrote to Mother from Kelmscott: "I
have done a tolerable deal of story, and done one or two other
little jobs. The cat killed a chicken yesterday: this kind of
mousing is so much objected to that I think she will follow
the victim to the other world."

In the postscript of a letter (which I shall quote elsewhere)
breathing of the June delights of Kelmscott, he says briefly,
" I have done no work."

On October 10 Jenny hears, "I have finished my book
(last night)," and a few days later Mother receives a birth-
day letter:

X J

Kelmscott House,

Upper Mall,
Hammersmith.
Oct. 17th [1889].
Dearest Janey

. . . You must kindly take this as my birthday letter,
my dear. I am so glad to hear that you have been sleeping
better. Best love for the 1 9th. I shall bring down what I have
got and give it you by hand on Tuesday. If you don't like it
I can change it. I bought it at Proctors, the Indian shop
opposite to us.

This morning has been most beautiful, but yesterday was
a soaker. Such a journey as I had on the District from Temple
down here — ugh ! I would rather have gone to York and back.
I have had a dummy book bound up in our chintz. It looks
so nice and such fun : the gold letters on the back look very
well on the linen cloth. The large-papers* will be out in a
fortnight, the small in three weeks. Reeves says that this will
do very well as to time. The small paper will be thicker than
the big; it will in consequence be a chumpy little book: it is
to be sold for 8s.— cheap, I think. I have begun another
story, but do not intend to hurry it — I must have a story to
write now as long as I live. Well, my dear, you see that I have
nothing to write about so again best love, and also to my dear
babies. I am going to have sprats to my dinner. I bought them
myself (3d. per lb.)

Your loving
W.M.

Finally, at the end of a letter to her on November 21, de-
scribing a visit to his eldest sister, our Aunt Emma, at Clay
Cross, he says, "The Book, The Book seems to be selling
well."

In preparing this volume for the press — that is, going

• See page xiv about these <c large-papers."

• •

Xlj

through the first edition of The Roots of the Mountains
page by page many times, I am once more reminded of the
interest its production aroused in the home circle, where it
was known that the author was taking particular pains over
the printing and paper and general style. During the time
when he was writing The House of the Wolfings, his taste
of younger days for early printed books had been developing
into a practical interest in all the details of fine printing; he
had also begun colle&ing early printed books and manu-
scripts, and was constantly "talking shop" with Emery
Walker. The Wolfings was printed in a private fount of the
Chiswick Press; he liked it on account of the likeness to the
old types, being founded on a Basel fount used by Froben,
and so it was chosen for printing his first romance. It is rather
curious that the type of the Wolfings and the Roots is the
same as that formerly used for one of the experimental pages
of the Earthly Paradise I have mentioned elsewhere, which
with its woodcut illustrations by Burne-Jones was to have
been "the book of the age."

The title-page of the Wolfings had been designed with
some pains and altered till it satisfied the author's eye. With
regard to this I can do no better than quote Mr. Buxton
Forman's story of meeting my father by chance at the
Chiswick Press :

"Presently down came the proof of the title page. It did
not read quite as now: the difference, I think, was in the
fourth and fifth lines where the words stood c written in prose
and verse by William Morris.' Now unhappily the words
and the type did not so accord as to come up to Morris'
standard of decorativeness. The line wanted tightening up:
there was a three-cornered consultation between the Author,
the Manager, and myself. The word in was to be inserted —
i written in prose and in verse ' — to gain the necessary fulness
of line. I mildly protested that the former reading was the
better sense and that it should not be sacrificed to avoid a

slight excess of white that no one would notice. c Ha! ' said

• • •

X11J

Morris/ now whatwould you say if I toldyou that theverscs
on the title-page were written just to fill up the great white
lower half? Well, that was what happened! ' "

Possessors of the first edition of The House of the Wolf-
ings will remember the lower case e with the slant of its cross
stroke; this was specially liked, as it occurred in some of the
early founts. However, the letter made some of his friends
so unhappy that he yielded to " public opinion,*' and in The
Roots of the Mountains, which is printed in the same type,
it is replaced by a straighter e.

But when The House of the Wolfings came out, in spite
of the trouble taken over its production, he was not entirely
satisfied with the appearance of the large paper copies, and
determined that the next book should be more after his
mind. The usual custom at that time was to set the type and
arrange the page and the margins with reference to the
smaller and cheaper issue, and then for the limited edition
to print the same page on a larger paper — generally dispro-
portionate. This is what happened with the Wolfings, and
in consequence my father declared he would never again
print a large paper issue of any of his works. The Wolfings
was out by the new year of 1 889, and at the end of the year,
the much longer romance of The Roots of the Mountains
appeared in a form which had been carefully planned and
watched by the author. He succeeded in getting a paper
specially made by Messrs. Whatman, a thin attractive-look-
ing paper just suitable for the size of the book. In designing
this volume, the size of the type and page was considered in
relation to the more expensive issue — one cannot say "large
paper," for the size was nearly the same as that of the ordin-
ary issue, but produced on this special paper and prettily
bound in some of the Merton printed linens. My father was
pleased with the general appearance of the book, chintz
binding and all. It may be said that the Roots had a certain
effect on the better sort of book-production, and is still in
some sort the model of a finely printed trade book.

On November 15, 1888, Mr. Emery Walker gave a
xiv

lantern-lecture on Letterpress Printing at the New Gallery
under the auspices of the newly-formed Arts and Crafts
Exhibition Society. It was one of a series on different subjects
given in the Exhibition rooms. At that time a lecture with
lantern-illustrations was not the common thing it is now,
and this evening was most attractive and delightful. I believe
it was our friend's first public appearance, and he suffered
untold agonies of shyness and nervousness: but that did not
matter to the audience, who enjoyed themselves, and were
much struck by the beauty of the " incunables " shown, and
by the way they bore the searching test of enlargement on
the screen. One after another the old printers passed before
us, one after another their splendid pages shone out in the
dark room — such things as Boccaccio's De Claris Mulieribus
by John Zainer of Ulm, with its woodcuts which my father
thought could not be excelled for romantic and dramatic
force, Schoeffer's Psalterof i457,aJensonof 1470, a Sweyn-
heim and Pannartz Livy (Rome 1469) — books which
moved him to repeat more than once that <c the first printed
books were the best ever done — the first and the last of
fine printing."

Alter the lecture, Father was very much excited.The sight
of the finely-proportioned letters so enormously enlarged,
and gaining rather than losing by the process, the enlarge-
ment emphasizing all the qualities of the type; his feeling,
so characteristic of him, that if such a result had been once
obtained it could be done again, stirred in him an overwhelm-
ing desire to hazard the experiment at least. Talking to
Emery Walker on the way home from the lecture, he said to
him, "Let's make a new fount of type." And that is the way
the Kelmscott Press came into being — the outcome of many
talks between the two men which had needed just this im-
petus, this spur of excitement to turn the desirable thing into
the thing to be done. It was not done the next day, however,
nor for nearly a year, after the printing of The Roots of the
Mountains, when my father set to work designing the first
letters of his Golden type.

xv

The direct and simple statement of my father's aim in
founding the Kelmscott Press only exists in a scarce volume
— the last issued by the Press. It is as follows:

NOTE BY WILLIAM MORRIS ON HIS AIMS IN
FOUNDING THE KELMSCOTT PRESS.

I BEGAN printing books with the hope of producing
some which would have a definite claim to beauty, while
at the same time they should be easy to read and should
not dazzle the eye, or trouble the intellect of the reader by
eccentricity of form in the letters. I have always been a great
admirer of the calligraphy of the Middle Ages, and of the
earlier printing which took its place. As to the fifteenth-
century books, I had noticed that they were always beautiful
by force of the mere typography, even without theadded or-
nament, with which many of them are so lavishly supplied.
And it was the essence or my undertaking to produce books
which it would be a pleasure to look upon as pieces of print-
ing and arrangement of type. Looking at my adven ture from
this point of view then, I found I had to consider chiefly the
following things : the paper, the form of the type, the relative
spacing of the letters, the words, and the lines; and lastly the
position of the printed matter on the page.

It was a matter of course that I should consider it neces-
sary that the paper should be hand-made, both for the sake
of durability and appearance. It would be a very false eco-
nomy to stint in the quality of the paper as to price: so I had
only to think about the kind of hand-made paper. On this
head I came to two conclusions : i st, that the paper must be
wholly of linen (most hand-made papers are of cotton to-
day), and must be quite "hard," i.e. thoroughly well sized;
and 2nd, that, though it must be "laid" and not "wove"
(i.e. made on a mould made of obvious wires),the lines caused
by the wires of the mould must not be too strong, so as to give
a ribbed appearance. I found that on these points I was at one
with the practice of the paper-makers of the fifteenth cen-
xvj

If you look at the map of Europe, you will see in its
north/western corner lying just under the Arctic circle
a large island considerably bigger than Ireland: If you
were to take ship and go tnere you would find it a couns
try very remarkable in aspect, little more than a desert,
vet the most romantic of all deserts even to look at: a
nuge volcanic mass still liable to eruptions of mud,ashes
and lava, and which in the middle of the 18th century was
the scene of the most tremendous outpour of lava that
history records* Anyone travelling there I think would
be apt to hope, if he knew nothing of its history, that its
terrific and melancholy beauty might have once been
illumined by a history worthy of its strangeness: nor
wouldhe hope in vain: for the island I am speaking of is
called Iceland*

It is a country of no account whatever commercially:
the whole centre of the island, being high above the level
of the sea, is a desert indeed, partly glacier, partly rough
rock and black volcanic sand, the moraines I suppose of
ancient glaciers, across which the wind sweeps with a
fury unknown in these islands, forbidding vegetation to
rise above a few inches from the ground unless there is
some special defence against it: here and there in fav
oured spots (I am speaking of these deserts) a little short
grass grows, sweet on the hill slopes, on the low ground
boggy and sour, dominated by that most grievously me*
lancholy of all plants the cotton rush : elsewhere is no/
thing save moss, seaspink, stonescrop (pretty flowers
these last), and above all a dwarf willow which keeps on
growing and dying, the bleached stems of the perished
parts looking like white bones on the black soil (sprengis
sandr) * It is not a thirsty desert however; every valley
almost has water in it, and huge rivers rush toward the

This is the Golden type*

Hiid he arose from table and they with
htm and they went down the hall amidst
the sleepingfolk andthe benches that had
erst been so noisy and merry and out a-
doors they went all three & into the street
of the Burg. Open were the Burg-gates
andnone watched there, for there was none
to break the Yule-tide peace; so the King
went forth clad in his f easting-raiment,
and those twain went, one on either side of
him* XTbe midwinter frost was hard upon
the earth, so that few waters were running,
and all thef aceof theworldwas laid under
snow : high was the moon and great and
roundin a cloudless sky, so that the stars
looked but little.

XTbe King set hie face toward the moun-
tains and strode with great strides over
the white highway betwixt the hidden
fruitfulness of the acres, and he was as
one wending on an errand which he may
not forego ; but at last he said: CHbitber
wend we and how far? 'Chen spake the old
man : Glbitber should we wend save to the
fountain Door, and the entrance to the
land whence thef oik cameforth, when great

Cbis is the Croy type*

■1

t

fair is the night and fair the day,
Now Hpril is forgot of JMay,
ffow into June May falls away ;
fair day, fair night, O give me bach
The tide that alt f air things did lack
except my love, except my sweet f

Blow bach, O wind! thou artnot hind,
Though thou art sweet: thou hast no mind
Rer hair about my sweet to wind;
O flowery sward, though thou art bright,
tpraise thee not for thy delight,
Tbou hast not hissed her silver feet*

Thou hnow'st her not, O rustling tree,
<Hhat dost thou then to shadow me,
TObosc shade her breast did never see ?
O flowers, in vain ye bow adown f
Ve have not felt her odorous gown
Brush past your heads my Ups to meet;

flow on, great river - thou mayst deem
That faraway, a summer stream.
Thou sawest her limbs amidst thee gleam,
Hnd hissed her foot, and hissed her hnee,
Vet get thee swift unto the seaf
with naught of true thou wilt me greet.

Hnd thou that men call by my name,
O helpless one, hast thou no shame
That thou must even looh the same,
Hs while agone, as while agone,
Glbcn thou and she were left alone,
Hnd hands, and lips, and tears did meet ?

Zbie is the Chaucer type.

tury; so I took as my model a Bolognese paper of about
1473. My friend Mr.Batchelor,ofLittle Chart, Kent, carried
out my views very satisfactorily, and produced from the first
the excellent paper which I still use.

Next as to type. By instinct rather than by conscious
thinking it over, 1 began by getting myself a fount of Roman
type. And here what I wanted was letter pure in form ; severe,
without needless excrescences ; solid, without the thickening
and thinning of the line, which is the essential fault of the
ordinary modern type, and which makes it difficult to read;
and not compressed laterally, as all later type has grown to
be owing to commercial exigencies. There was only one
source from which to take examples of this perfected Roman
type, to wit, the works of the great Venetian printers of the
fifteenth century, of whom Nicholas Jenson produced the
completest and most Roman characters from 1470 to 1476.
This type I studied with much care, getting it photographed
to a big scale, and drawing it over many times before I began
designing my own letter; so that though I think I mastered
the essence of it, I did not copy it servilely ; in fact, my Roman

Hpe, especially in the lower case, tends rather more to the
othic than does Jenson's.

After a while I felt that I must have a Gothic as well as a
Roman fount; and herein the task I set myself was to redeem
the Gothic character from the charge of unreadableness
which is commonly brought against it. And I felt that this
charge could not be reasonably brought against the types of
the first two decades of printing: that SchoefFer at Mainz,
Mentelin at Strasburg, and Gunther Zainer at Augsburg,
avoided the spiky ends and undue compression which lay
some of the later type open to the above charge. Only the
earlier printers (naturally following therein the practice of
their predecessors the scribes) were very liberal of contrac-
tions, and used an excess of "tied" letters, which, by the
way,are very useful to the compositor. So I entirely eschewed
contractions, except for the c< &," and had very few tied let-
ters, in fact none but the absolutely necessary ones. Keeping
xv.b xvij

my end steadily in view, I designed a black-letter type which
I think I may claim to be as readable as a Roman one, and to
say the truth, I prefer it to the Roman. This type is of the
size called Great Primer (the Roman type is or "English "
size) ; but later on I was driven by the necessities of the
Chaucer (a double-columned book) to get a smaller Gothic
type of Pica size.

The punches for all these types, I may mention, were cut
for me with great intelligence and skill by Mr. E. P. Prince,
and render my designs most satisfactorily.

Now as to the spacing: First, the "face" of the letter
should be as nearly conterminous with the "body" as pos-
sible, so as to avoid undue whites between the letters. Next,
the lateral spaces between the words should be (a) no more
than is necessary to distinguish clearly the division into
words, and (b) should be as nearly equal as possible. Modern
printers, even the best, pay very little heed to these two
essentials of seemly composition, and the inferior ones run
riot in licentious spacing, thereby producing, inter alia, those
ugly rivers of lines running about the page which are such a
blemish to decent printing. Third, the whites between the
lines should not be excessive; the modern practice of "lead-
ing " should be used as little as possible, and never without
some definite reason, such as marking some special piece of
printing. The only leading I have allowed myself is in some
cases a " thin "lead between the lines of my Gothic pica type :
in the Chaucer and the double-columned books I have used
a " hair " lead, and not even this in the 1 6mo books. Lastly,
but by no means least, comes the position of the printed
matter on the page. This should always leave the inner mar-
gin the narrowest, the top somewhat wider, the outside
(fore-edge) wider still, and the bottom widest of all. This
rule is never departed from in mediaeval books, written or
printed. Modern printers systematically transgress against
it; thus apparently contradicting the fact that the unit of a
book is not one page, but a pair of pages. A friend, the libra-
rian of one of our most important private libraries, tells me
xviij

%

that after careful testing he has come to the conclusion that
the mediaeval rule was to make a difference of 20 per cent,
from margin to margin. Now these matters of spacing and
position are of the greatest importance in the production of
beautiful books; if they are properly considered they will
make a book printed in quite ordinary type at least decent
and pleasant to the eye. The disregard of them will spoil the
effect of the best designed type.

It was only natural that I,a decorator by profession, should
attempt to ornament my books suitably: about this matter,
I will only say that I have always tried to keep in mind the
necessity for making my decoration a part of the page of
type. I may add that in designing the magnificent and ini-
mitable woodcuts which have adorned several of my books,
and will above all adorn the Chaucer which is now drawing
near completion, my friend Sir Edward Burne-Jones has
never lost sight of this important point, so that his work will
not only give us a series of most beautiful and imaginative
pictures, but form the most harmonious decoration possible
to the printed book.

Kelmscott House, Upper Mall, Hammersmith.
Nov, 11, 1895.

The following letter gives an account of Mr. Walker's
lecture sandwiched between mention of Father's Socialist
work and a lecture at the Hammersmith meeting-hall by
Mrs. Parsons, the wife of one of the Chicago Anarchists,
over here on a lecturing visit. The diary it presents is rather
instructive : meetings on Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tues-
day (with "a bit of a shindy" thrown in) and on Wednesday
a visit to the Police Court. And on Thursday he turned up
fresh and full of zest at the Arts and Crafts lecture, himself
largely contributing to the entertainment of the company
assembled in the debate that followed, as I well remember.
It was an evening full of vivacity, especially in the informal
discussion which followed the lecture, the tone of which
maybe gathered from my father's penitent remark as he left
b2 xix

the room, " I know I had no right to be hard on such a hen-
headed idiot as that."

Kelmscott House,

Upper Mall, Hammersmith,
Nov, 17th, 1 888.
Dearest own Jenny

Thank you for your kind letter, my darling. I am
going to Nottingham to-night to lecture to-morrow and
have got to finish my lecture before I go: so I have not much
time to write a long screed. Yes we have been very busy the
past week : 1 spoke on four consecutive days : last Saturday
in St. Paul's Caffee, Sunday Hyde Park, Monday Store St.
Hall, Tuesday Clerkenwell Green. At the latter place there
was a bit of a shindy but not till the end when I had gone a-
way ; as a result I had to bail a comrade on Wednesday, and
spend a couple of hours in that sink of iniquity a Police Court.

Thursday I was at the Arts and Crafts at Walker's lecture
on printing; he was very nervous and ought to have written
down his words ; but of course he knew his subj ect thorough-
ly well. There were magic-lantern slides of pages of books,
and some telling contrasts between the good and the bad. . . .
Mrs. Parsons' lecture was a great success here, the room
crammed. May was in the chair: I was not present as I had
to go to a meeting at the Arts and Crafts. She is a curious-
looking woman : no signs of European blood in her, Indian
with a touch of negro; but she speaks pure Yankee.* I was
much tickled by her indignation at the barbarous and back-
ward means of communication in London. . . .

Well, my darling I really mustgtt to my lecture now. So
good-bye with best love.

Your loving father

William Morris.

Mr. Emery Walker's name has been introduced in a
somewhat casual way throughout my notes, and it may be

• Mrs. Parsons was of Mexican family.
xx

that I take it too much for granted that people understand
how much my father owed to this close companion of his
later life. It is a name that will always be associated with the
history of the Kelmscott Press, and I can only repeat what
has been said elsewhere, that without Mr. Walker the Press
could not have existed — at any rate in the form it took. In
saying so much, or rather so little, I am well aware that even
we at home, in the midst of all the comings and goings about
my father's library, could not know to the full how much
time and energy Mr. Walker, in his personal affection for
the man, and his artist's enthusiasm for the work, devoted
to the building up of this new enterprise — he, the one man
in all London best fitted for such a labour of love, by his ex-
perience and detailed knowledge, his fastidious taste and his
quick sympathy with my father's ways of work. They first
made acquaintance in 1884 coming back from a Socialist
meeting at the Monarch Coffee House in Bethnal Green
Road.They got into talk in the train, and Father, interested
on hearing that Mr. Walker lived at Hammersmith, asked
him to call. But he was known to the family by sight before
that as " the brown velveteen artist," and we took an interest
in his hurried flittings past the windows on the way to busi-
ness, sometimes leading by the hand a pretty little maid in
white muslin. One day, even, he got into the train as Father
and I were going up to town, and was soon deep in a book.
Father sitting next him turned an amused look on me, and
when I asked what the joke was as we got off the train, said,
"Well, my dear, he was paying me the compliment of read-
ing the Earthly Paradise." "Oh, you should have told him
who you were! " was my naive comment, with a fellow-feel-
ing for the hero-worshipper. . . . Such was the simple begin-
ning of one of those wonderful friendships for which my
father had the happy talent, and from which he received as
much as he gave — which is saying not a little, so generous a
giver of himself as he was.

The following is an extraft from Mr. CockerelTs diary for
1888:

xxj

"Tuesday, Dec. ioth. Emery Walker called to tell me
that W.M. had asked him to go into partnership with him as
a printer, but that he had been obliged to decline."

"Will you go into partnership with me?" he said to
Walker; "but mind I shall want to do everything my own
way," he added. Our friend was not able to accept the offer,
but the simplicity and delightful frankness of it remain with
him fresh as if spoken yesterday, and with the same enjoy-
ment that he tells of it now, he will, I doubt not, tell his grand-
children in future years.

To return to the Press: this is how the first type was de-
signed. Mr. Walker got his people to photograph upon an
enlarged scale some pages from Aretino's "Historia fioren-
tina," printed in Venice by Jacques Le Rouge in 1476, and
pages of all the more important fifteenth century Roman
types; these enlargements enabled Father to study the pro-
portions and peculiarities of the letters. Having thoroughly
absorbed these, so to speak, he started designing his own type
on this big scale. When done, each letter was photographed
down to the size the type was to be. Then he and Walker
criticized them and brooded over them; then he worked on
them again on the large scale until he got everything right.
The point about all this is — though it maybe scarcely neces-
sary to dwell on a rather obvious thing — that while he worked
on the letters on this large scale, he did not then as is often
done with drawings for mechanical reproduction, have the
design reduced and think no more about it; it was considered
on its own scale as well, and indeed, when the design had
passed into the expert and sympathetic hands of Mr. Prince
and was cut, the impression — a smoked proof — was again
considered, and the letter sometimes recut. My father used
to go about with matchboxes containing these " smokes " of
the type in his pockets, and sometimes as he sat and talked
with us, he would draw one out, and thoughtfully eye the
small scraps of paper inside. And some of the letters seemed
to be diabolically inspired and would not fall into line for a
xxij

while, and then there were great consultations till the evil
spirit was subdued.

To watch the very beginnings of this new-old industry
taking form and growing more or less under our own roof
was to understand somethingof the infinite pains and thought
that at some time or other have gone to make any of the least
of the arts, the most trifling of the necessitiesof the commu-
nity : here were two experts, for instance, putting their heads
together and concentrating their minds for the moment on
the proportions and angles of say a lower case i. We had never
seen the designing of type before — it grows as the leaves
grow for all one thinks about it, — but now we realized for
ourselves that to know how a thing is made is to respeft and
admire it.

The general proportions of Father's Roman type were
derived from the Jacques Le Rouge book mentioned above
and from Jenson's Italian Pliny,alsoof 1476. Caxton'sGold-
en Legend was to have been the first book printed, hence the
name of the "Golden type." He was pleased with the suc-
cess it obtained in a naturally somewhat limited circle,* but
among the criticisms that pleased him most was that of our
friend Walter Crane, who in the library one day was looking
at it and comparing the page with that of the old printer, and
remarked that it had come out more Gothic than Jacobus
Rubeus. But my father's taste led him to a type more Gothic
still. Indeed, he told Emery Walker that of any kind of de-
signing he had ever done, nothing had given him so much
trouble as this Roman type of his. It was the first done, of
course, and he had to learn the technical necessi ties as he went,
though years ago he had written out his Virgil in a bold Ro-
man letter, and the forms were not new to him : it was some-
thing more than this; in designing the Troy type (which he
started dire&ly the Golden was finished) he was assuredly

• Though he did complain that nobody had paid his Golden type
the compliment of pirating it; yet when the moment came the com-
pliment was not received in a Christian spirit.

xxiij

working in specially sympathetic forms. It is not to be for-
gotten that he was touched more nearly by the spirit of pre-
Renaissance art in its development Northward than by that
of the South, and so it was that, leaving out of account the fa&
that his hand was now in training, the drawing of his Gothic
letter was done with no conscious effort, and with little direft
reference to the models by which he was inspired. The black-
letter types which most influenced his Troy type were those
of Schoeffer of Mainz, SchQssler of Augsburgand Koburger
of Narnberg; but Emery Walker's vivid remembrance is that
with practised handandhead full of proportions felt instinct-
ively, he drew the whole alphabet straightaway — more or less
"out of his head." In considering the Kelmscott types in re-
lation to the old founts on which they are necessarily based,
Mr. Walker is of opinion that, when the Troy type is put
beside the Gothic letter, it holds its own, while the Golden
is not quite so elegant as the finest Venetian which stands
as the exemplar.

The paper had to be considered next. One of the character-
istics or the second half of the nineteenth century was that the
pioneers of art always had to waste time in elementary pre-
paration for their work, all tradition being so feeble; enthu-
siasts had to set to work from the root up. In the discussion
followingalantern-lecture my father gave before the Society
of Arts in 1 8 9 1 , he said that " the principal difficulty in getting
a cheap book to look well was the paper, but if people would
only turn their attention to this matter, they could easily get
paper much better for its purpose than what was now con-
sideredgood paper — paper which would show on the surface
of it that it was common paper, but would not be disagreeable
to handle or read, and would not be of that horrible shiny
character, and look as if you could rub it all to pieces, which
in fact you could. Some books you could not even carry
comfortably from one end of a room to the other, on account
of the extra weight of the adulterants necessary for that kind
of paper. He had had in his hand a moderate-sized book, a
royal 8 vo, which weighed as heavy as the biggest folio of the
xxiv

fifteenth century." For his purpose a hand-made paper both
light in weight and hard in texture had to be found, or rather
made; he consulted Mr. Joseph Batchelor of Little Chart,
near Ashford, who promptly made experiments. One experi-
ment in paper made for Mr. Walker years before had strange
results; I remember a sheet of it curled into a roll that lay
about at home for a long while, as a curiosity. It came of
trying new linen yarn for the pulp ; it was cockly, hard as
a board and semi-transparent — rather like fish-glue, the
queerest production. Father went down with Mr.Walkerto
Little Chart, and went over the mill and saw the whole pro-
cess of hand-made paper and of course had a try at it himself.
It was a nice old-fashioned quiet place with a water-wheel,
and they had a pleasant holiday of it, and lunch and Rhine-
wine at their host's home come into the tale. My father took
down with him a book printed at Bologna in 1473 :" I wan *
it to look like this, Mr. Batchelor, 9 ' he said, and saw by the
way Mr. Batchelor carefully noted in the paper the free-made
look of the mould that he was on the right track. With little
delay a paper was produced that was right from the first (to
Father's great pleasure) and that answered all the require-
ments afterwards laid down in the Note on his Aims in
Founding the Kelmscott Press.

The Golden type was nearly finished by the end of 1 890,
and on January 3 1 next year my father and Walker went in
together to the little cottage where the Press was first lodged,
and watched the impression of the first page of the first book
printed, which page he thereafter gave to Emery Walker,
having written on it "WilliamMorrisfuithicJanuary 3 1st,"
after an inscription upon Jan Van Eyck's portrait picture of
John Arnolfini and his wife in the National Gallery.

I am showing pages of the three types, the Golden, the
Troy (first used for theRecuyellof the Historyes of Trove)
and the Chaucer, which was used for several of the smaller
volumes before the publication of the Chaucer. Father
experimented with another fount, designing a lower case
alphabet on the lines of the Subiaco type of Sweynheim and

XXV

Pannartz which appeared in only three known books.* But
this did not satisfy him and it was not completed.

The borders, ornamental letters, big and little were in-
vented with great rapidity — indeed the source of produc-
tion was inexhaustible, as the Press "kept its own designer,"
and the slightest hitch in the arrangement of a page was met
by a fresh design. The page-ornaments known as "weepers"
are, I imagine, a special feature of the Kelmscott Press books,
and people no doubt have compared them with the early
woodcut borders designed for Love is Enough. It is the
same hand that did these delicate borders, but the inventor
of them, who was just then producing painted books with
ornament entirely harmonious and well balanced, had not
yet thought out all the relation of the printed ornament to
the page of print ; indeed, even in the days of the Press he was
still experimenting, and discarding, in the later volumes,
certain of his ornament either too massive or too light in
relation to the type.

More than once I have mused over the continuity of pro-
gress in my father's life-work, and marvelled to see how a
thread dropped so long, that an onlooker might have thought
it broken for always, was unconsciously and easily picked
up again in later life, and woven firmly into the fabric. So it
is here: in considering the history of the Press, it will be
remembered that among the many experiments, one in
fine printing had been in his mind so early as the seventies
when his chief holiday-work was writing out and painting
books — it will be remembered too that a yet earlier dream
was an illustrated and specially printed Earthly Paradise.
The thread has many strands, and among them this, that of
those who had cut some of the early wood blocks for the
Earthly Paradise was one who started with the Firm in Red
Lion Square, G. F. Campfield, the glass-painter, and that he

• The same type formed the basis of Mr. St. John Hornby's type
cut for the Ashendene Press in which the noble folio Dante has been
printed,
xxvj

cut also a few of the earliest initials for the Kelmscott Press :
a matter without significance but that it sets one thinking and
comparing.

How that the experimenting went on all the time will be
felt in comparing an early volume of the Press with a later
one (in the same type), say Reynard the Fox with The Well
at the World's End, which latter is specially interesting in
its double columns and the style and variety of the page
decoration, and the little letters with their white edge first
used here, I think.

Burne-Jones made his designs for the Press books in pen-
cil, and the drawings had to be re-drawn in ink. It was a diffi-
cult task enough, it may be imagined, translating the freedom
and breadth of the artist hand working swiftly in an easy
medium into the careful set line of the brush, making ready
for the wood-cutter! When done so far Burne-Jones looked
them over again, and they were then photographed on to the
wood. "The whole of these wood blocks have been sent to
the British Museum, and have been accepted with a condi-
tion that they shall not be reproduced or printed from for
the space of a hundred years. The electrotypes have been
destroyed. In taking this course, which was sanctioned by
William Morris when the matter was talked of shortly before
his death, the aim of the trustees has been to keep the series
of Kelmscott Press books as a thing apart, and to prevent
the designs becoming stale by constant repetition."*

Mr. S. C. CockerelTs Note — the essential parts of which
I hope to reprint in a later volume — must be consulted for
all dates and details of the history of the Kelmscott Press.
As secretary to my father and to the Press, he writes with all
authority and precision, and to glance through his list of the
volumes issued is to realize the remarkable output of these
few years.

Mr. Cockerell is another of the friends of later life whom
it was my father's talent and good fortune to draw to himself.
It is not possible for me to do more than mention in the
* A Short History and Description of the Press by S. C. Cockerell.

xxvij

fewest words what the companionship of these two men
brought my father in brighter times and in the heavy days
to come.

I have a few more entries from Mr. CockereU's diary
bearing on the book-production of these years:

Thurs. Aug. 14 [1890]. W.M. at S.P.A.B. and Gatti's.
1 1 letters of the new type already cast. Went back to Kelm-
scott House with W.M. and sat talking till 11.30. He
had just bought a Sweynheim and Pannartz Suetonius with
woodcut ornaments and initials. He read passages concern-
ing St. Hugh and St. Edmund from his Wynkyn de Worde
" Golden Legend," which he thinks of reprinting when he
has his new type.

Sunday Feo. 1st [1891]. I spent the afternoon at Kelm-
scott House. E.B-J. there. Looked at old books. E.B-J. not
caring much for the printed books, but eager to look at the
manuscripts. I went on to Walker's, and W.M. came and
discussed type-matters. The first page printed at the Kelm-
scott Press brought out and compared with a page of the
Saga Library, which looked very poor beside it. It was only
finished last night. W.M. in high spirits about it. Talks of
setting to work at once on a black letter fount. Spoke of the
satisfaction of getting up at 4 and of having half a day's work
finished by breakfast time.

Sat. Apr. 4th [1891]. Emery Walker took me to see the
Kelmscott Press in which the Glittering Plain is now being
printed from W.M.'s new type. Saw the colophon being set
up with the date April 4th 1 8 9 1 . A single hand-press at the
top of a winding corner-stair, the compositor being in a little
room leading out of that in which the press is. Printed sheets,
one of vellum, lying about.

I do not know whether the estimate in which the Kelm-
scott Press was held by some of the men there may be taken
as a compliment or the reverse; one pressman who had been
with my father all through, was heard to remark on some-
xxviij

thing which had happened "when I was working at Virtue's
on fine-art printing." Perhaps it was the same pressman who
said to him once, " You will live to wake up famous yet,"
intending a great compliment I rather think it is a tribute to
the Press that the staffdid not look upon it as an "art-print-
ing" concern.They used to do some wonderful fancy printing
for the annual wayzgoose to which we all went; these pro-
grammes and menus are real curiosities — being done with
much perverse care and ingenuity, and the Kelmscott type
being used, they are as it were productions from another
planet than that in which the head of the Press lived and
worked and dreamed. At one of these outings, in answer to a
friendly comment on the splendour of the menu-card, one of
the men said, "Well, you know, Sir, it isn't quite what we
could 'have done if we'd had more c sorts'. "

It is not necessary, I hope, to make an apology for adding
a few more entries from Mr. Cockerell's diary, his short
notes being so full of the atmosphere I am trying to call
back. These are to show the progress of the Chaucer which
my father had the unspeakable satisfaction of seeing finished.

All through the years of the Press, as with his writing, he
was concerned as to what should be the next work, and it was
early decided that directly the Chaucer was finished a Frois-
sart should be started. A great part of the decoration of this
book was to be the coat-armour of those of whom the chro-
nicler treated, and it was to be Mr. Walker's job to look up
the heraldry. Thirty-two pages in type and two splendid
pages with cusped ornamented letters and shields in the
borders, are all we have of this project.

Thurs. Junei ith[i89i] ... Hethinks of printing a Chaucer
from a black-letter fount which he hopes to design.

Wed. Feb. ist [1893]. W.M. starting folio border for
Chaucer.

Satur.Feb. 1 ith. W.M. finished the first vine-border for the
Chaucer.

xxix

Mon. Feb. 20th. W.M. at work on the 2nd large border for
the Chaucer.

Tues. Feb. 2 1st. W.M. translated the first 50 lines of Beo-
wulf.

Wed. Mar. 1st. W.M. designed a new S and a big Y for the
Froissart.

Ap. 3rd [1 894]. W.M. finished the first verso border for the
Chaucer. He has taken a fortnight over this and a refto
border of the same character, of course doing much other
work besides.

Tues. Ap. 10th. W.M. finished Beowulf.

Wed. Aug. 8 th. Began printing the Chaucer.

Jan. 1 oth [1896]. W.M. busy designing bindingfor Chaucer.

Fri. March 27th. Chaucer title finished.

Tues. June 2nd.The two first copies of the Chaucer delivered
toW.M.andE.B-J.

A few days after the Chaucer printing had begun he wrote
to Jenny at Kelmscott :

Kelmscott House,

Upper Mall, Hammersmith.
Saturday [11 Aug. 1 894].
Own dearest Child

As I shall not be seeing you till Tuesday, I just send
you love dear, to you and Mother. I am very well and hard
at work. Nothing has happened since yesterday except that
we printed the 1 st side of Chaucer on vellum ; successfully, I
think, after some trouble. I have done a big O for the Man
of Laws tale, and am now doing the title-page to the Book of
Wisdom and Lies.

Walker dines with me to-night. Home to Kelmscott on
Tuesday and then Wot Larx.

Your loving father

W.M.

XXX

I should like to end these notes in a few words of Mr.
CockerelTs :

"All day at Kelmscott House . . . When I went up into
the drawing-room to say good-night, W.M. and Mrs. M.
were playing at draughts, with large ivory pieces, red and
white. Mrs.M. had on a glorious blue gown, and they looked
like a king and queen in some old manuscript."

ONE day, going down in the train to Kelmscott, he
called Emery Walker's attention to a pretty hay-
making scene beyond the "iron road" they were on,
the high wind lifting the hay from the waggon. This is em-
bodied in the poem on the title-page of The Roots of the
Mountains. The following is an earlier version.

Bright morn, and on the iron road
You hurry past some fair abode . . .

No smoke curls o'er the ancient roof:
Along the winding high-hedged lane
Comes creeping down the yellow wain
Unto the harvest well-nigh done
Whose hoary wheat-sheaves face the sun ;
Though in a corner of the field
10 The day-white reap-hooks yet they wield:

Nigh these on shimmering stubbles stand
Two wondering children hand in hand
To watch your clatter sweeping on ;
And all is there — and all is gone.
But as it goes how fain were I

XXXJ

To be afoot and saunter by
The field and homestead! and turn back
And take the sun-burnt stile-barred track
Unto the water meadow green
20 Whereof e'en now a glimpse was seen

To tell us of the river's way
Betwixt the willows wind-blown grey
E'en thus-wise have I tried to do
Within these leaves I give to you.
I saw a thing and deemed it fair
And longed that it might tarry there
And therewithal with words I wrought
To make it something more than nought.

XXXlj

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

First Edition in square crown octavo, Reeves and Turner,
with a Special Edition of 250 copies on Whatman paper,
pott quarto, November 1889.

Second Edition, February 1 893.

Transferred to Longmans, Green and Co., June 1 896.

Reprinted March 1 906.

Volume II of the Golden Type Edition, April 1901.

Volume XV of the Colle&ed Works of William Morris,

August 19 12.

xv.c

xxxuj

THE ROOTS OF THE MOUNTAINS

WHEREIN IS TOLD SOMEWHAT OF

THE LIVES OF THE MEN OF BURG/

DALE, THEIR FRIENDS THEIR

NEIGHBOURS THEIR FOEMEN AND

THEIR FELLOWS IN ARMS

BY WILLIAM MORRIS

WHILES CARRIED O'ER THE IRON ROAD,

WE HURRY BY SOME FAIR ABODE;

THE GARDEN BRIGHT AMIDST THE HAY,

THE YELLOW WAIN UPON THE WAY,

THE DINING MEN, THE WIND THAT SWEEPS

LIGHT LOCKS FROM OFF THE SUN-SWEET HEAPS—

THE GABLE GREY, THE HOARY ROOF,

HERE NOW— AND NOW SO FAR ALOOF.

HOW SORELY THEN WE LONG TO STAY

AND MIDST ITS SWEETNESS WEAR THE DAY,

AND 'NEATH ITS CHANGING SHADOWS SIT,

AND FEEL OURSELVES A PART OF IT.

SUCH REST, SUCH STAY, I STROVE TO WIN

WITH THESE SAME LEAVES THAT LIE HEREIN.

* • •

» •

• •

THE ROOTS OF THE MOUNTAINS

CHAPTER I. OF BURGSTEAD AND ITS FOLK
AND ITS NEIGHBOURS.

ONCE upon a timeamidst the mountains and hills and
falling streams of a fair land there was a town or thorp
in a certain valley. This was well-nigh encompassed
by a wall of sheer cliffs; toward the East and the great moun-
tains they drew together till they went near to meet, and left
but a narrow path on either side of a stony stream that came
rattling down into the Dale: toward the river at that end the
hills lowered somewhat, though they still ended in sheer
rocks; but up from it, and more especially on the north side,
they swelled into great shoulders of land, then dipped alittle,
and rose again into the sides of huge fells clad with pine-
woods, and cleft here and there by deep ghylls : thence again
they rose higher and steeper, and ever higher till they drew
dark and naked out of the woods to meet the snow-fields and
ice-rivers of the high mountains. But that was far away from
the pass by the little river into the valley; and the said river
was no drain from the snow-fields white and thick with the
grinding of the ice, but clear and bright were its waters that
came from wells amidst the bare rocky heaths.

The upper end of the valley, where it first began to open
out from the pass, was rugged and broken by rocks and ridges
of water-borne stones, but presently it smoothed itself into
mere grassy swellings and knolls, and at last into a fair and
fertile plain swelling up into a green wave, as it were, against
the rock-wall which encompassed it on all sides save where
the river came gushing out of the strait pass at the east end,
and where at the west end it poured itself out of the Dale to-
ward the lowlands and the plain of the great river.

Now the valley was some ten miles of our measure from
that place of the rocks and the stone-ridges, to where the faces
of the hills drew somewhat anigh to the river again at the
west, and then fell aback along the edge of the great plain ; like

XV.B I

.* *

. *

• • *

' ••.

• • •

» •

Of tK$ Waters as when ye fare a- sailing past two nesses of a river-mouth,

of Pty^cfale and the main-sea lieth open before you.

•/•••. ## Besides the river afore-mentioned, which men called the

Weltering Water, there were other waters in the Dale. Near
the eastern pass, entangled in the rocky ground was a deep
tarn full of cold springs and about two acres in measure, and
therefrom ran a stream which fell into the Weltering Water
amidst the grassy knolls. Black seemed the waters of that tarn
which on one side washed the rocks-wall of the Dale; ugly
and aweful it seemed to men,andnone knewwhat lay beneath
its waters save black mis-shapen trouts that few cared to bring
to net or angle: and it was called the Death-Tarn.

Other waters yet there were : here and there from the hills
onboth sideSjbut especially from thesouth side, came trickles
of water that ran in pretty brooks down to the river ; and some
of these sprang bubbling up amidst the foot-mounds of the
sheer-rocks ; some had cleft a rugged and strait way through
them, and came tumbling down into the Dale at diverse
heights from their faces. But on the north side about halfway
down the Dale, one stream somewhat bigger than the others,
and dealing with softer ground, had cleft for itself a wider
way; and the folk had laboured this way wider yet, till they
had made them a road running north along the west side of
the stream. Sooth to say, except for the strait pass along the
river at the eastern end, and the wider pass at the western,
they had no other way (save one of which a word anon) out
of the Dale but such as mountain goats and bold cragsmen
might take; and even of these but few.

This midway stream was called the Wildlake, and the way
along it Wildlake's Way, because it came to them out of the
wood, which on that north side stretched away from nigh to
the lip of the valley-wall up to the pine woods and the high
fells on the east and north, and down to the Plain-country on
the west and south.

Now when the Weltering Water came out of the rocky
tangle near the pass, it was turned aside by the ground till it
2

swung right up to the feet of the Southern crags; then it Of the Port-
turned and slowly bent round again northward, and at last way
fairly doubled back on itself before it turned again to run
westward; so that when, after its second double, it had come
to flowing softly westward under the northern crags, it had
cast two thirds of a girdle round about a space of land a little
below the grassy knolls and tofts aforesaid ; and there in that
fair space between the folds of the Weltering Water stood the
Thorp whereof the tale hath told.

The men thereof had widened and deepened the Welter-
ing Water about them, and had bridged it over to the plain
meads; and athwart the throat of the space left clear by
the water they had built them a strong wall though not very
high, with a gate amidst and a tower on either side thereof.
Moreover, on the face of the cliff which was but a stone's
throw from the gate they had made them stairs and ladders
to go up by ; and on a knoll nigh the brow had built a watch-
tower of stone strong and great, lest war should come into the
land from over the hills. That tower was ancient, and there-
from the Thorp had its name and the whole valley also; and
it was called Burgstead in Burgdale.

So long as the Weltering Water ran straight along by the
northern cliffs after it had left Burgstead, betwixt the water
and the cliffs was a wide flat way fashioned by man's hand.
Thus was the water again a good defence to the Thorp, for it
ran slow and deep there, and there was no other ground be-
twixt it and the cliffs save that road, which was easy to bar
across so that no foemen might pass without battle, and this
road was called the Portway. For a long mile the river ran
under the northern cliffs, and then turned into the midst of
the Dale, and went its way westward a broad stream winding
in gentle laps and folds here and there down to the out-gate
of the Dale. But the Portway held on still underneath the
rock-wall, till the sheer-rocks grew somewhat broken, and
were cumbered with certain screes, and at last the wayfarer
came upon the break in them, and the ghyll through which
B2 3

Of Wild- ran the Wildlakc with Wildlake's Way beside it, but the
lake's Way Portway still went on all down the Dale and away to the Plain-
andthc country,

ote-s ca That road in the ghyll, which was neither wide nor smooth,
the wayfarer into the wood must follow, till it lifted itself out
of the ghyll, and left the Wildlake coming rattling down by
many steps from the east; and now the way went straight
north through the woodland,evermountinghigher,(because
the whole set of the land was toward the high fells,) but not
in any cleft or ghyll. The wood itself thereabout was thick,
a blended growth of diverse kinds of trees, but most of oak
and ash ; light and air enough came through their boughs to
suffer the holly and bramble and eglantine and other small
wood to grow together into thickets, which noman could pass
without hewing a way. But before it is told whereto Wild-
lake's Way led, it must be said that on the east side of the
ghyll, where it first began just over the Portway, the hill's
brow was clear of wood for a certain space, and there, over-
looking all the Dale, was the Mote-stead of the Dalesmen,
marked out by a great ring of stones, amidst of which was the
mound for the Judges and the Altar of the Gods before it.
And this was the holy place of the men of the Dale and of
other folk whereof the tale shall now tell.

For when Wildlake's Way had gone some three miles
from the Mote-stead, the trees began to thin, and presently
afterwards was a clearing and the dwellings of men, built of
timber as may well be thought. These houses were neither
rich nor great, nor was the rolk a mighty folk, because they
were but a few, albeit body by body they were stout carles
enough. They had not affinity with the Dalesmen, and did
not wed with them, yet it is to be deemed that they were
somewhat akin to them. To be short, though they were free-
men, yet as regards the Dalesmen were they well-nigh their
servants; for they were but poor in goods, and had to lean
upon them somewhat. No tillage they had among thosehigh
trees; and of beasts nought save some flocks of goats and a

4

few asses. Hunters they were, and charcoal-burners, and Of the
therein the deftest of men, and they could shoot well in the Woodland-
bow withal: so they trucked their charcoal and their smoked Carlcs
venison and their peltries with the Dalesmen for wheat and
wine and weapons and weed; and the Dalesmen gave them
main good pennyworths, as men who had abundance where-
with to uphold their kinsmen, though they were but far-
away kin. Stout hands had these Woodlanders and true
hearts as any; but they were few-spoken and to those that
needed them not somewhat surly of speech and grim of
visage: brown-skinned they were, but light-haired; well-
eyed, with but little red in their cheeks: their women were
not very fair, for they toiled like the men, or more. They
were thought to be wiser than most men in foreseeing things
to come. They were much given to spells, and songs of
wizardry, and were very mindful of the old story-lays,
wherein they were far more wordy than in their daily speech.
Much skill had they in runes, and were exceeding deft in
scoring them on treen bowls, and on staves, and door-posts
and roof-beams and standing-beds and such like things.
Many a day when the snow was drifting over their roofs,
and hanging heavy on the tree-boughs, and the wind was
roaring through the trees aloft and rattling about the close
thicket, when the boughs were clattering in the wind, and
crashing down beneath the weight of the gathering freezing
snow, when all beasts and men lay close in their lairs, would
they sit long hours about the house-fire with the knife or the
gouge in hand, with the timber 'twixt their knees and the
whetstone beside them, hearkening to sometale of old times
and the days when their banner was abroad in the world; and
they the while wheedling into growth out of the tough wood
knots and blossoms and leaves and the images of beasts and
warriors and women.

They were called nought save the Woodland-Carles in
that day, though time had been when they had borne a nobler
name: and their abode was called Carlstead. Shortly, for all

5

Folk

Of the they had and all they had not, for all they were and all they

Shepherd- wcrc no^ they were well-beloved by their friends and feared
by their foes.

Now when Wildlake's Way was gotten to Carlstead, there
was an end of it toward the north; though beyond it in a
right line the wood was thinner, because of the hewing of the
Carles. But the road itself turned west at once and went on
through the wood, till some four miles further it first thinned
and then ceased altogether, the ground going down-hill all
the way: for this was the lower flank of the first great up-
heaval toward the high mountains. But presently, after the
wood was ended, the land broke into swelling downs and
winding dales of no great height or depth, with a few scat-
tered trees about the hill-sides, mostly thorns or scrubby
oaks, gnarled and bent and kept down by the western wind:
here and there also were yew-trees, and whiles the hill-sides
would be grown over with box-wood, but none very great;
and often Juniper grew abundantly. This then was the
country of the Shepherds, who were friends both of the
Dalesmen and the Woodlanders. They dwelt not in any
fenced town or thorp, but their homesteads were scattered
about as was handy tor water and shelter. Nevertheless they
had theirown stronghold; for amidmost of their country, on
the highest of a certain down above a bottom where a willowy
stream winded, was a great earthwork : the walls thereof were
high and clean and overlapping at the entering in, and amidst
ofit was a deep well of water, so that it was a very defensible
place: and thereto would they drive their flocks and herds
when war was in the land, for nought but a very great host
might win it; and this stronghold they called Greenbury.

These Shepherd-Folk were strong and tall like theWood-
landers, for they were partly of the same blood, but burnt
they were both ruddy and brown : they were of more words
than the Woodlanders, but yet not many-worded. They
knew well all those old story-lays, (and this partly by the
minstrelsy of the Woodlanders,) but they had scant skill in
wizardry, and would send for the Woodlanders, both men
6

and women, to do whatso they needed therein. They were Of the
very hale and long-lived, whereas they dwelt in clear bright Shepherd-
air, and they mostly went light-clad even in the winter, so Folk
strong and merry were they. They wedded with the Wood-
landers and the Dalesmen both ; at least certain houses of
them did so. They grew no corn ; nought but a few pot-herbs,
but had their meal of the Dalesmen ; and in the summer they
drave some of their milch-kine into the Dale for the abund-
ance of grass there; whereas their own hills and bents and
winding valleys were not plenteously watered, except here
and there as in the bottom under Greenbury. No swine they
had, and but few horses, but of sheep very many, and of the
best both for their flesh and their wool. Yet were they nought
so deft craftsmen at the loom as were theDalesmen, and their
women were not very eager at the weaving, though they
loathed not the spindle and rock. Shortly, they were merry
folk well-beloved of the Dalesmen, quick to wrath, though
it abode not long with them ; not very curious in their houses
and halls, which were but little, and were decked mostly with
the handiwork of the Woodland-Carles their guests; who
when they were abiding with them, would oft stand long
hours nose to beam, scoring and nicking and hammering,
answering no word spoken to them but with aye or no, de-
siring nought save the endurance of the daylight. Moreover,
this shepherd-folk heeded not gay raiment overmuch, but
commonly went dad in white woollen or sheep-brown weed.

But beyond this shepherd-folk were more downs and
more, scantily peopled, and that after a while by folk with
whom they had no kinship oraffinity, and who were at whiles
their foes. Yet was there no enduring enmity between them ;
and ever after war and battle came peace; and all blood-wites
were duly paid and no long feud followed: nor were the
Dalesmen and theWoodlanders always in these wars, though
at whiles they were. Thus then it fared with these people.

But now that we have told of the folks with whom the
Dalesmen had kinship, affinity, and friendship, tell we of
their chief abode, Burgstead to wit, and of its fashion. As

7

OfBurg-
stead and
its houses

Of the
House of
the Face

hath been told, it lay upon the land made nigh into an isle by
the folds of the Weltering Water towards the uppermost end
of the Dale; and it was warded by the deep water, and by the
wall aforesaid with its towers. Now the Dale at its widest, to
wit where Wildlake fell into it, was but nine furlongs over,
but at Burgstead it was far narrower; so that betwixt the wall
and the wandering stream there was but a space of fifty acres,
and therein lay Burgstead in a space of the shape of a sword-
pommel: and the houses of the kinships lay about it, amidst
of gardens and orchards, but little ordered into streets and
lanes, save that a way went clean through everything from
the tower-warded gate to the bridge over the Water, which
was warded by two other towers on its hither side.

As to the houses, they were some bigger, some smaller, as
the house-mates needed. Some were old, but not very old,
save two only, and some quite new, but of these there were
not many: they were all built fairly of stone and lime, with
much fair and curious carved work of knots and beasts and
men round about the doors; or whiles a wale of such-like
work all along the house-front. For as deft as were the Wood-
landers with knife and gouge on the oaken beams, even so
deft were the Dalesmen with mallet and chisel on the face of
the hewn stone ; and this was a great pastime about the Thorp.
Within these houses had but a hall and solar, with shut-beds
out from the hall on one side or two, with whatso of kitchen
and buttery and out-bower men deemed handy. Many men
dwelt in each house, either kinsfolk, or such as were joined to
the kindred.

Near to the gate of Burgstead in that street aforesaid and
facing east was the biggest house of the Thorp; it was one of
the two abovesaid which were older than any other. Its door-
posts and the lintel of the door were carved with knots and
twining stems fairer than other houses of that stead; and on
the wall beside the doorcarved over many stones was an image
wrought in the likeness of a man with a wide face, which was
terrible to behold, although it smiled: he bore a bent bow in
his hand with an arrow fitted to its string, and about the head
8

of him was a ring of rays like the beamsof the sun, and at his Of Feasts
feet was a dragon, which had crept, as it were, from amidst of an <* Fo* k -
the blossomed knots of the door-post wherewith the tail of motcl
him was yet entwined. And this head with the ring of rays
about it was wrought into the adornment of that house, both
within and without, in many other places, but on never an-
other house of the Dale; and it was called the House of the
Face. Thereof hath the tale much to tell hereafter, but as now
it goeth on to tell of the ways of life of the Dalesmen.

In Burgstead was no Mote-hall or Town-house or Church,
such as we wot of in these days; and their market-place was
wheresoever any might choose to pitch a booth: but for the
most part this was done in the wide street betwixt the gate
and the bridge. As to a meeting-place, were there any small
matters between man and man, these would the Alderman or
one of the Wardens deal with, sitting in Court with the neigh-
bours on the wide space just outside the Gate: but if it were
to do with greater matters, such as great manslayings and
blood-wites, or the making of war or ending of it, or the
choosing of the Alderman and the Wardens, such matters
must be put off to the Folk-mote, which could but be held
in the place aforesaid where was the Doom-ring and the Al-
tar of the Gods; and at that Folk-mote both the Shepherd-
Folk and the Woodland-Carles foregathered with the Dales-
men, and duly said their say. There also they held their great
feasts and made offerings to the Gods for the Fruitfulness of
the Year, the Ingathering of the Increase, and in Memory of
their Forefathers. Natheless at Yule-tide also they feasted
from house to house to be glad with the rest of Midwinter,
and many a cup they drank at those feasts to the memory of
the fathers, and the days when the world was wider to them,
and their banners fared far afield.

But besides these dwellings of men in the field between the
wall and the water, there were homesteads up and down the
Dale whereso men found it easy and pleasant to dwell : their
halls were built of much the same fashion as those within the
Thorp; but many had a high garth-wall cast about them, so

9

Of the hus- that they might make a stout defence in their own houses if

bandryofthe war came into the Dale,

Daks™? 11 As t0 their work afield; in many places the Dale was fair

Jj]^^ cir with growth of trees, and especially were there long groves

of sweet chestnut standing on the grass, of the fruit whereof
the folk had much gain. Also on the south side nigh to the
western end was a wood or two of yew-trees very great and
old, whence they gat them bow-staves, for the Dalesmen also
shot well in the bow. Much wheat and rye they raised in the
Dale, and especially at the nether end thereof. Apples and
pears and cherries and plums they had in plenty; of which
trees, some grew about the borders of the acres, some in the
gardens of the Thorp and the homesteads. On the slopes that
had grown from the breaking down here and there of the
Northern cliffs, and which faced the South and the Sun's
burning, were rows of goodly vines, whereof the folk made
them enough and to spare of strong wine both white and red.
As to their beasts; swine they had a many, but not many
sheep, since herein they trusted to their trucking with their
friends the Shepherds; they had horses, and yet but a few,
for they were stout in going afoot; and, had they a journey
to make with women big with babes, or with children or out-
worn elders, they would yoke their oxen to their wains, and
go fair and softly whither they would. But the said oxen and
all their neat were exceeding big and fair, far other than the
little beasts of the Shepherd-Folk; they were either dun of
colour, or white with black horns (and those very great) and
black tail-tufts and ear-tips. Asses they had, and mules for
the paths of the mountains to the east ; geese and hens enough,
and dogs not a few, great hounds stronger than wolves, sharp-
nosed, long-jawed, dun of colour, shag-haired.

As to their wares; they were very deft weavers of wool and
flax, and made a shift to dye the thrums in fair colours ; since
both woad and madder came to them good cheap by means
of the merchants of the Plain-country, and of greening weeds
was abundance at hand. Good smiths they were in all the
metals: they washed somewhat of gold out of the sands of the
10

Weltering Water, and copper and tin they fetched from the Of the wares
rocks of the eastern mountains; but of silver they saw little, °f the Wet-
and iron they must buy of the merchants of the Plain, who mcn
came to them twice in the year, to wit in the spring and the
late autumn just before the snows. Their wares they bought
with wool spun and in the fleece, and fine cloth, and skins of
wine and young neat both steers and heifers, and wrought
copper bowls, and gold and copper by weight, for they had no
stamped money. And they guested these merchants well, for
they loved them, because of the tales they told them of the
Plain and its cities, and the manslayings therein, and the fall
of Kings and Dukes, and the uprising of Captains.

Thus then lived this folk in much plenty and ease of life,
though not delicately nor desiring things out of measure.
They wrought with their hands and wearied themselves ; and
they rested from their toil and feasted and were merry: to-
morrow was not a burden to them, nor yesterday a thing
which they would fain forget: life shamed them not, nor did
death make them afraid.

As for the Dale wherein they dwelt, it was indeed most fair
and lovely, and they deemed it the Blessing of the Earth, and
they trod its flowery grass beside its rippled streams amidst
its green tree-boughs proudly and joyfully with goodly
bodies and merry hearts.

CHAPTER II. OF FACE-OF-GOD AND HIS KIN-
DRED.

TELLS the tale,that on an evening of late autumn when
the weather was fair, calm, and sunny, there came a man
out of the wood hard by the Mote-stead aforesaid, who
sat him down at the roots of the Speech-mound,casting down
before him a roebuck which he had just slain in the wood.
He was a young man of three and twenty summers; he was
so clad that he had on him a sheep-brown kirtle and leggings
of like stuff bound about with white leather thongs; he bore
a short-sword in his girdle and a little axe withal; the sword

ii

A man with fair wrought gilded hilts and a dew-shoe of like fashion

cometh from to its sheath. He had his quiver at his back and bare in his
01 ^ hand his bow unstrung. He was tall and strong, very fair of

w fashion both of limbs and face, white-skinned, but for the

sun's tanning, and ruddy-cheeked: his beard was little and
fine, his hair yellow and curling, cut somewhat close, but for
its length so plenteous, and so thick, that none could fail to
note it. He had no hat nor hood upon his head, nought but
a fillet of golden beads.

As he sat down he glanced at the dale below him with a
well-pleased look, and then cast his eyes down to the grass at
his feet, as though to hold a little longer all unchanged the
image of the fair place he had just seen. The sun was low in
the heavens, and his slant beams fell yellow all up the dale,
gilding the chestnut groves grown dusk and grey with au-
tumn, and the black masses of the elm-boughs, and gleam-
ing back here and there from the pools of the Weltering
Water. Down in the midmost meadows the long-horned dun
kine were moving slowly as they fed along the edges of the
stream, and a dog was bounding about with exceeding swift-
ness here and there among them. At a sharply curved bight
of the river the man could see alittlevermilion flame flicker-
ing about, and above it a thin blue veil of smoke hanging in
the air, and clinging to the boughs of the willows anear ; about
it were a dozen menfolk clear to see, some sitting, some
standing, some walking to and fro, but all in company to-
gether : four of these were brown-clad and short-skirted like
himself,and from above the hand of one came a flash oflight
as the sun smote upon the steel of his spear. The others were
long-skirted and clad gayer, and amongst them were red and
blue and green and white garments, and they were clear to
be seen for women. Just as the young man looked up again,
those of them who were sitting down rose up, and those that
were strolling drew nigh, and they joined hands together,
and fell to dancing on the grass, and the dog and another one
with him came up to the dancers and raced about and betwixt
12

them ; and so clear to see were they all and so little, being far Folk dance
away, that they looked like dainty well- wrought puppets. at eventide

The young man sat smiling at it for a little, and then rose
up and shouldered his venison, and went down into Wild-
lake's Way, and presently was fairly in the Dale and striding
along the Portway beside the northern cliffs, whose greyness
was gilded yet by the last rays of the sun, though in a minute
or two it would go under the western rim. He went fast and
cheerily, murmuring to himself snatches of old songs; none
overtook him on the road, but he overtook divers folk going
alone or in company toward Burgstead ; swains and old men,
mothers and maidens coming from the field and the acre, or
going from house to house; and one or two he met but not
many. All these greeted him kindly, and he them again ; but
he stayed not to speak with any, but went as one in haste.

It was dusk by then he passed under the gate of Burgstead ;
he went straight thence to the door of the House of the Face,
and entered as one who is at home, and need go no further,
nor abide a bidding.

The hall he came into straight out of the open air was long
and somewhat narrow and not right high ; it was well-nigh
dark now within, but since he knew where to look, he could
see by the flicker that leapt up now and then from the smoul-
dering brands of the hearth amidmost the hall under the luf-
fer, that there were but three men therein, and belike they
were even they whom he looked to find there, and for their
part they looked for his coming, and knew his step.

He set down his venison on the floor, and cried out in a
cheery voice: " Ho, Kettel! Are all men gone without doors
to sleep so near the winter-tide, that the Hall is as dark as a
cave? Hither to me! Or art thou also sleeping?"

A voice came from the further side of the hearth: " Yea,
lord, asleep I am, and have been, and dreaming; and in my
dream I dealt with the flesh-pots and the cake-board,and thou
shalt see my dream come true presently to thy gain."

Quoth another voice: " Kettel hath had out that share of

*3

The venison his dream already belike, if the saw sayeth sooth about cooks,
is late All ye have been away, so belike he hath done as Rafe's dog

when Rafe ran away from the slain buck.' 9

He laughed therewith, and Kettel with him, and a third
voice joined the laughter. The young man also laughed and
said : " Here I bring the venison which my kinsman desired ;
but as ye see I have brought it over-late: but take it, Kettel.
When cometh my father from the stithy?'*

Quoth Kettel: " My lord hath been hard at it shaping the
Yule-tide sword, and doth not lightly leave such work, as ye
wot, but he will be here presently, for he has sent to bid us
dight for supper straightway."

Said the young man : " Where are there lords in the dale,
Kettel, or hast thou made some thyself, that thou must be al-
ways throwing them in my teeth ?"

"Son of the Alderman," said Kettel, "ye call me Kettel,
which is no name of mine, so why should I not call thee
lord, which is no dignity of thine, since it goes well over my
tongue from old use and wont? But here comes my mate of
the kettle, and the women and lads. Sit down by the hearth
away from their hurry, and I will fetch thee the hand-water."

The young man sat down, and Kettel took up the venison
and went his ways toward the door at the lower end of the
hall; but ere he reached it it opened, and a noisy crowd en-
tered of men, women, boys, and dogs, some bearing great
wax candles, some bo wis and cups and dishes and trenchers,
and some the boards for the meal.

The young man sat quiet, smiling and winking his eyes at
the sudden flood of light let into the dark place; he took in
without looking at this or the other thing the aspect of his
Fathers' House, so long familiar to him ; yet to-night he had
apleasurein it above his wont, and inall the stir of the house-
hold ; for the thought of the wood wherein he had wandered
all day yet hung heavy upon him. Came one of the girls and
cast fresh brands on the smouldering fire and stirred it into a
blaze, and the wax candles were set up on the dais, so that
between them and the new-quickened fire every corner of

14

the hall was bright. As aforesaid it was long and narrow, over- The Hall of
arched with stone and not right high, the windows high up xiiC House of
under the springingof the roof-arch and all on the side toward acc
the street ; over against them were the arches of the shut-beds
of the house-mates. The walls were bare that evening, but
folk were wont to hang up ballings of woven pictures thereon
when feasts and high-days were toward; and all along the
walls were the tenter-hooks for that purpose, and divers
weapons and tools were hanging from them here and there.
About the dais behind the thwart-table were now stuck for
adornment lea vy boughs of oak now just beginning to turn
with the first frosts. High up on the gable wall above the
tenter-hooks for the hangings were carven fair imagery and
knots and twining stems; for there in the hewn stone was set
forth that same image with the rayed head that was on the
outside wall, and he was smiting the dragon and slaying him ;
but here inside the house all this was stained in fair and lively
colours, and the sun-like rays round the head of the image
were of beaten gold. At the lower end of the hall were two
doors going into the butteries, and kitchen, and other out-
bowers ; and above these doors was a loft upborne by stone
pillars, which loft was the sleeping chamber of the goodman
of the house; but the outward door was halfway between the
said loft and the hearth of the hall.

So the young man took the shoes from his feet and then sat
watching the women and lads arraying the boards, till Kettel
came again to him with an old woman bearing the ewer and
basin, who washed his feet and poured the water over his
hands, and gave him the towel with fair-broidered ends to
dry them withal.

Scarce had he made an end of this ere through the outer
door came in three men and a young woman with them; the
foremost of these was a man younger by some two years than
the first-comer, but so like him that none might misdoubt
that he was his brother; the next was an old man with a long
white beard, but hale and upright; and lastly came a man of
middle-age, who led the young woman by the hand. He was

l 5

The Alder- taller than the first of the young men, though the other who
man cometh entered with him outwent him in height ; a stark carle he was,
in broad across the shoulders, thin in the flank, long-armed

and big-handed; very noble and well-fashioned of counten-
ance, with a straight nose and grey eyes underneath a broad
brow: his hair grown somewhat scanty was done about with
a fillet of golden beads like the young men his sons. For in-
deed this was their father, and the master of the House.

His name was Iron-face, for he was the deftest of weapon-
smiths, and he was the Alderman of the Dalesmen, and well-
beloved of them; his kindred was deemed the noblest of the
Dale, and long had they dwelt in the House of the Face. But
of his sons the youngest, the new-comer, was named Hall-
face, and his brother the elder Face-of-god; which name was
of old use amongst the kindred, and many great men and
stout warriors had borne it aforetime: and this young man,
in great love had he been gotten, and in much hope had he
been reared, and therefore had he been named after the best
of the kindred. But his mother, who was hight the Jewel, and
had been a very fair woman, was dead now, and Iron-face
lacked a wife.

Face-of-god was well-beloved of his kindred and of all the
Folk of the Dale, and he had gotten a to-name, and was called
Gold-mane because of the abundance and fairness of his hair.
As for the young woman that was led in by Iron-face, she
was the betrothed of Face-of-god, and her name was the Bride.
She looked with such eyes or love on him when she saw him
in the hall, as though she had never seen him before but once,
nor loved him but since yesterday; though in truth they had
grown up together and seen each other most days of the year
for many years. She was of the kindred with whom the chiefs
and great men of the Face mostly wedded, which was indeed
for away kindred of them. She was a fair woman and strong:
not easily daunted amidst perils: she was hardy and handy
and light-foot : she could swim as well as any, and could shoot
well in the bow, and wield sword and spear: yet was she kind
and compassionate, and of great courtesy, and the very dogs
16

and kine trusted in her and loved her. Her hair was dark red The Bride
of hue, longand fine and plenteous, her eyes great and brown, told of
her brow broad and very fair, her lips fine and red : her cheek
not ruddy, yet nowise sallow, but clear and bright : tall she was
and of excellent fashion, but well-knit and well-measured
rather than slender and wavering as the willow bough. Her
voice was sweet and soft, her words few, but exceeding dear
to the listener. In short, she was a woman born to be the ran-
som of her Folk.

Now as to the names which the menfolk of the Face bore,
and they an ancient kindred, a kindred of chieftains, it has
been said that in times past their image of the God of the
Earth had over his treen lace a mask of beaten gold fashioned
to the shape of the image ; and that when the Alderman of the
Folk died, he to wit who served the God and bore on his arm
the gold-ring between the people and the altar, this visor or
face of God was laid over the face of him who had been in a
manner his priest, and therewith he was borne to mound ; and
the new Alderman and priest had it in charge to fashion a new
visor for the God; and whereas for long this great kindred
had been chieftains of the people, they had been, and were all
so named, that the word Face was ever a part of their names.

CHAP. III. THEY TALK OF DIVERS MATTERS
IN THE HALL.

NOW Face-of-god, who is also called Gold-mane, rose Of Stone-
up to meet the new-comers, and each of them greeted ** cc
him kindly, and the Bride kissed him on the cheek,
and he her in like wise ; and he looked kindly on her, and took
her hand, and went on up the hall to the dais, following his
father and the old man; as for him, he was of the kindred of
the House, and was foster-father of Iron-face and of his sons
both ; and his name was Stone-face : a stark warrior had he
been when he was young, and even now he could do a man's
work in the battlefield, and hisunderstandingwasasgood as
that of a man in his prime. So went these and four others up
xv.c 17

Face-of-god on to the dais and sat down before the thwart-table looking
tells of his down the hall, for the meat was now on the board ; and of the
hunting others there were some fifty men and women who were

deemed to be of the kindred and sat at the endlong tables.

So then the Alderman stood up and made the sign of the
Hammer over the meat, the token of his craft and of his God.
Then they fell to with good hearts, for there was enough
and to spare of meat and drink. There was bread and flesh
(though not Gold-mane's venison), and leeks and roasted
chestnuts of the grove, and red-cheeked apples of the garth,
and honey enough of that year's gathering, and medlars sharp
and mellow: moreover, good wine of the western bents went
up and down the hall in great gilded copper bowls and in
mazers girt and lipped with gold.

But when they were full of meat, and had drunken some-
what, they fell to speech, and I ron-face spake aloud to h is son,
who had but been speaking softly to the Bride as one playmate
to the other: but the Alderman said: " Scarce are the wood-
deer grown, kinsman, when I must needs eat sheep's flesh on
a Thursday, though my son has lain abroad in the woods all
night to hunt for me."

And therewith he smiled in the young man's face; but
Gold-mane reddened and said: "So is it, kinsman, I can hit
what I can see; but not what is hidden."

Iron-face laughed and said : " Hast thou been to the Wood-
land-Carles? are their women fairer than our cousins? "

Face-of-god took up the Bride's hand in his and kissed it
and laid it to his cheek ; and then turned to his father and said :
"Nay, father, I saw not the Wood-carles, nor went to their
abode; and on no day do I lust after their women. Moreover,
I brought home a roebuck of the fattest; but I was over-late
for Kettel, and the flesh was ready for the board by then I

came."

" Well, son," quoth Iron-fece, for he was merry ,"a roebuck

is but a little deer for such big men as are thou and I. But I

rede thee take the Bride along with thee next time; and she

shall seekwhilest thou sleepest,and hit when thoumissest."

18

Then Facc-of-god smiled, but he frowned somewhat also, The offer of
and he said : "Well were that, indeed! But if ye must needs Iron-face to
drag a true tale out of me: that roebuck I shot at the very h,8Son
edge of the wood nigh to the Mote-stead as I was coming
home: harts had I seen in the wood and its lawns, and boars,
and bucks, and loosed not at them : for indeed when I awoke
in the morning in that wood-lawn ye wot of, I wandered up
and down with my bow unbent So it was that I fared as if I
were seeking something, I know not what, that should fill
up something lacking to me, I know not what Thus I felt in
myself even so long as I was underneath the black boughs,
and there was none beside me and before me, and none to
turn aback to: but when I came out again into the sunshine,
and I saw the fair dale, and the happy abode lying before me,
and folk abroad in the meads merry in the eventide; then
was I full fain of it, and loathed the wood as an empty thing
that had nought to give me; and lo you! all that I had been
longing for in the wood, was it not in this House and ready
to my hand? — and that is good meseemeth."

Therewith he drank of the cup which the Bride put into
his hand after she had kissed the rim, but when he had set it
down again he spake once more:

"And yet now I am sitting honoured and well-beloved in
the House of my Fathers, with the holy hearth sparkling and
gleaming down there before me; and she that shall bear my
children sitting soft and kind by my side, and the bold lads
I shall one day lead in battle drinking out of my very cup:
now it seems to me that amidst all this, the dark cold wood,
wherein abide but the beasts and the Foes of the Gods, is
bidding me to it and drawing me thither. Narrow is the Dale
and the World is wide; I would it were dawn and daylight,
that I might be afoot again."

And he half rose up from his place. But his father bent his
brow on him and said : " Kinsman, thou hast a long tongue
for a half-trained whelp: nor see I whitherward thy mind is
wandering, but if it be on the road of a lad's desire to go
further and fare worse. Hearken then, I will offer thee some-
C2 19

Facc-of-god what! Soon shall the West-country merchants be here with
will not go their winter truck. How sayest thou? hast thou a mind to

to the Plain fc re back w j th them> an(J look Qn the pla ; n and • ^ q^ and

take and give with the strangers ? To whom indeed thou shalt
be nothing save a purse with a few lumps of gold in it, or
maybe a spear in the stranger's band on the stricken field, or
a bow on the wall of an alien city. This is a craft which thou
mayst well learn, since thou shalt be a chieftain ; a craft good
to learn, however grievous it be in the learning. And I my-
self have been there; for in my youth I desired sore to look
on the world beyond the mountains; so I went, and I filled
my belly with the fruit of my own desires, and a bitter meat
was that; but now that it has passed through me, and I yet
alive, belike I am more of a grown man for having endured
its gripe. Even so may it well be with thee, son ; so go if thou
wilt; and thou shalt go with my blessing, and with gold and
wares and wain and spearmen."

c< Nay," said Face-of-god, " I thank thee, for it is well
offered ; but I will not go, for I have no lust for the Plain and
its Cities ; I love the Dale well, and all that is round about it ;
therein will I live and die."

Therewith he fell a-musing; and the Bride looked at him
anxiously, but spake not. Sooth to say her heart was sinking,
as though she foreboded some new thing, which should
thrust itself into their merry life.

But the old man Stone-face took up the word and said :

c< Son Gold-mane, it behoveth me to speak, since belike I
know the wild-wood better than most, and have done for
these three-score and ten years; to my cost. Now I perceive
that thou longest for the wood and the innermost of it; and
wot ye what? This longing will at whiles entangle the sons
of our chieftains, though this Alderman that now is hath
been free therefrom, which is well for him. For, time was
this longing came over me, and 1 went whither it led me:
overlong it were to tell of all that befell me because of it, and
how my heart bled thereby. So sorry were the tidings that
came of it, that now meseemeth my heart should be of stone
20

and not my face, had it not been for the love wherewith I The marvels
have loved the sons of the kindred. Therefore, son, it were and perils of
not ill if ye went west away with the merchants this winter, ^ c wood
and learned the dealings of the cities, and brought us back
tales thereof."

But Gold-mane cried out somewhat angrily, " 1 tell thee,
foster-father, that I have no mind for the cities and their men
and their fools and their whores and their runagates. But as
for the wood and its wonders, I have done with it, save for
hunting there along with others of the Folk. So let thy mind
be at ease; and for the rest, I will do what the Alderman com-
mandeth,and whatso my father craveth of me."

"And that is well, son," said Stone-face, "if what ye say
come to pass, as sore I misdoubt me it will not. But well it
were, well it were! For such things are in the wood, yea and
before ye come to its innermost, as may well try the stoutest
heart. Therein are Kobbolds, and Wights that love not men,
things unto whom the grief of men is as the sound of the
fiddle-bow unto us. And there abide the ghosts of those that
may not rest ; and there wander the dwarfs and the mountain-
dwellers, the dealers in marvels, the givers of gifts that de-
stroy Houses; the forgers of the curse that clingeth and the
murder that flitteth to and fro. There moreover are the lairs
of Wights in the shapes of women, that draw a young man's
heart out of his body, and fill up the empty place with desire
never to be satisfied, that they may mock him therewith and
waste his manhood and destroy him. Nor say I much of the
strong-thieves that dwell there, si nee thou art a valiant sword ;
or of them who have been made Wolves of the Holy Places ;
or of the Murder-Carles, the remnants and ofF-scourings of
wicked and wretched Folks — men who think as much of the
life of a man as of the life of a fly. Yet happiest is the man
whom they shall tear in pieces, than he who shall live bur-
dened by the curse of the Foes of the Gods."

The house-master looked on his son as the old carle spake,
and a cloud gathered on his face a while ; and when Stone-face
had made an end he spake :

21

Redesman "This is long and evil talk for the end of a merry day, O

the Minstrel fosterer! Wilt thou not drink a draught, O Redesman, and
smgeth then stand up and set thy fiddle-bow a-dancing, and cause it

draw some fair words after it? For my cousin's face hath
grown sadder than a young maid's should be, and my son's
eyes gleam with thoughts that are far away from us and
abroad in the wild-wood seeking marvels."

Then arose a man of middle-age from the top of the end-
long bench on the east side of the hall: a man tall, thin and
scant-haired, with a nose like an eagle's neb: he reached out
his hand for the bowl, and when they had given to him he
handled it, and raised it aloft and cried:

"Here I drink a double health to Face-of-god and the
Bride, and the love that lieth between them, and the love be-
twixt them twain and us."

He drank therewith, and the wine went up and down the
hall, and all men drank, both carles and queens, with shout-
ing and great joy. Then Redesman put down the cup (for it
had come into his hands again), and reached his hand to the
wall behind him, and took down his fiddle hanging there in
its case, and drew it out and fell to tuning it, while the hall
grew silent to hearken : then he handled .the bow and laid it
on the strings till they wailed and chuckled sweetly, and when
the song was well awake and stirring briskly, then he lifted
up his voice and sang:

THE MINSTREL SAITH:

O why on this morning, ye maids, are ye tripping
Aloof from the meadows yet fresh with the dew,

Where under the west wind the river is lipping

The fragrance of mint, the white blooms and the blue?

For rough is the Portway where panting ye wander;

On your feet and your gown-hems the dust lieth dun ;
Come trip through die grass and the meadow-sweet yonder,

And forget neath the willows the sword of the sun.

22

THE MAIDENS ANSWER : The Maiden

Though fair are the moon-daisies down by the river, w ^d

And soft is the grass and the white clover sweet;
Though twixt us and the rock-wall the hot glare doth quiver,

And the dust of the wheel-way is dun on our feet;

Yet here on the way shall we walk on this morning

Though the sun burneth here, and sweet, cool is the mead ;

For here when in old days the Burg gave its warning,
Stood stark under weapons the doughty of deed.

Here came on the aliens their proud words a-cryii
And hereon our threshold they stumbled and fel

Here silent at even the steel-clad were lying,
And here were our mothers the story to tell.

Here then on the morn of the eve of the wedding

We pray to the M ighty that we too may bear
Such war-walls forwarding of orchard and steading,

That the new days be merry as old days were dear.

Therewith he made an end, and shouts and glad cries arose
all about the hall ; and an old man arose and cried : " A cup to
the memory of the Mighty of the Day of the Warding of the
Ways." For you must know this song told of a custom of
the Folk, held in memory of a time of bygone battle, where-
in they had overthrown a great host of aliens on the Portway
betwixt the river and the cliffs, two furlongs from the gate
of Burgstead. So now two weeks before Midsummer those
maidens who were presently to be wedded went early in the
morning to that place clad in very fair raiment, swords girt
to their sides and spears in their hands, and abode there on
the highway from morn till even as though they were a guard
to it And they made merry there, singing songs and telling
tales of times past: and at the sun-setting their grooms came
to fetch them away to the Feast of the Eve of the Wedding.

*3

Face-of-god While the song was a-singing Face-of-god took the Bride's
in the morn- hand in his and caressed it, and was soft and blithe with her ;
m £ and she reddened and trembled for pleasure, and called to

mind wedding feasts that had been, and fair brides that she
had seen thereat, and she forgot her fears and her heart was
at peace again.

And Iron-face looked well-pleased on the two from time
to time, and smiled, but forbore words to them.

But up and down the hall men talked with one another
about things long ago betid: for their hearts were high and
they desired deeds; but in that fair Dale so happy were the
years from day to day that there was but little to tell of. So
deepened the night and waned, and Gold-mane and the Bride
still talked sweetly together, and at whiles kindly to the
others; and by seeming he had clean forgotten the wood and
its wonders.

Then at last the Alderman called for the cup of good-
night, and men drank thereof and went their ways to bed.

CHAPTER IV. FACE-OF-GOD FARETH TO THE
WOOD AGAIN.

WHEN it was the earliest morningand dawn was but
just beginning, Face-of-god awoke and rose up
from his bed, and came forth into the hall naked in
his shirt, and stood by the hearth, wherein the piled-up em-
bers were yet red, and looked about and could see nothing
stirring in the dimness : then he fetched water and washed the
night-tide off him, and clad himself in haste, and was even as
he was yesterday, save that he left his bow and quiver in their
place and took instead a short casting-spear; moreover he
took a leathern scrip and went therewith to the buttery, and
set therein bread and flesh and a little gilded beaker; and all
this he did with but little noise ; for he would not be question-
ed, lest he should have to answer himself as well as others.
Thus he went quietly out of doors, for the door was but

*4

latched, since no bolts or bars or locks were used in Burgstead, Face-of-god
and through the town-gate, which stood open, save when ru- thinkcth of
moursofwar were about. He turned his face straight towards d* 8 "^
Wildlake's Way, walking briskly, but at whiles looking back
over his shoulder toward the East to note what way was
made by the dawning, and how the sky lightened above the
mountain passes.

By then he was come to the place where the Maiden Ward
was held in the summer the dawn was so far forward that all
things had their due colours, and were clear to see in the
shadowless day. It was a bright morning, with an easterly air
stirring that drave away the haze and dried the meadows,
which had otherwise been rimy ; for it was cold. Gold-mane
lingered on the place a little, and his eyes fell on the road, as
dusty yet as in Redesman's song; for the autumn had been
very dry, and the strip of green that edged the outside of the
way was worn and dusty also. On the edge of it, half in the
dusty road, half on the worn grass, was a long twine of briony
red-berried and black-leaved; and right in the midst of the
road were two twigs of great-leaved sturdy pollard oak, as
though they had been thrown aside there yesterday by women
or children a-sporting; and the deep white dust yet held the
marks of feet, some bare, some shod, crossingeach other here
i and there. Face-of-god smiled as he passed on, as a man with

a happy thought ; for his mind showed him a picture of the
Bride as she would be leading the Maiden Ward next sum-
mer, and singing first among the singers, and he saw her as
clearly as he had often seen her verily, and before him was the
fashion of her hands and all her body, and the little mark on
her right wrist,and theplace whereherarm whitened, because
the sleeve guarded it against the sun, which had long been
pleasant unto him, and the little hollow in her chin, and the
lock of red-brown hair waving in the wind above her brow,
and shining in the sun as brighuy as the Alderman 's cunning-
est work of golden wire. Soft and sweet seemed that picture,
till he almost seemed to hear her sweet voice calling to him,

*5

Face-of-god and desire of her so took hold of the youth, that it stirred him
makcth up togoswiftlier as he strode on, the day brightening behind

neighbours jjim.

Now was it nigh sunrise, and he began to meet folk on the
way, though not many ; since for most their way lay afield, and
not towards the Burg. The first was a Woodlander, tall and
gaunt, striding beside his ass, whose panniers were laden with
charcoal. The carle's daughter, a little maiden of seven win-
ters, was riding on the ass's back betwixt the panniers, and
prattling to herself in the cold morning; for she was pleased
with the clear light in the east, and the smooth wide turf of
the meadows, as one who had not often been far from the
shadow of the heavy trees of the wood, and their dark wall
round about the clearing where they dwelt. Face-of-god gave
the twain the sele of the day in merry fashion as he passed
them by, and the sober dark-faced man nodded to him but
spake no word, and the child stayed her prattle to watch him
as he went by.

Then came the sound of the rattle of wheels, and, as he
doubled an angle of the rock-wall, he came upon a wain drawn
by four dun kine, wherein lay a young woman all muffled up
against the cold with furs and cloths ; beside the yoke-beasts
went her man, a well-knit trim-faced Dalesman clad bravely
in holiday raiment, girt with a goodly sword, bearing a bright
steel helm on his head, in his hand a long spear with a gay red
and white shaft done about with copper bands. He looked
merry and proud of his wain-load, and the woman was smiling
kindly on him from out of her scarlet and fur; but now she
turned a weary happy face on Gold-mane, for they knew him,
as did all men of the Dale.

So he stopped when they met, for the goodman had already
stayed his slow beasts, and the goodwife had risen a little on
her cushions to greet him, yet slowly and but a little, for she
was great with child, and not far from her time. That knew
Gold-mane well, and what was toward, and why the goodman
wore his fine clothes, and why the wain was decked with oak-
boughs and the yoke-beasts with their best gilded bells and
26

copper-adorned harness. For it was a custom with many of Face-of-god
the kindreds that the goodwife should fare to her father's cannot tell
house to lie in with her first babe, and the day of her coming of kwroad
home was made a great feast in the house. So then Face-of-
god cried out : " Hail to thee, O Warcliff ! Shrewd is the wind
this morning, and thou dost well to heed it carefully, this thine
orchard, this thy garden, this thy fair apple-tree! To a good
hall thou wendest, and the Wine of Increase shall be sweet
there this even. "

Then smiled Warcliff all across his face, and the goodwife
hung her head and reddened. Said thegoodman : " Wilt thou
not be with us, son of the Alderman, as surely thy father shall
be?"

"Nay," said Face-of-god, "though I were fain of it: my
own matters carry me away."

"What matters?" said Warcliff; "perchance thou art for
the cities this autumn ? "

Face-of-god answered somewhat stiffly : " Nay, I am not ; "
and then more kindly, and smiling, " All roads lead not down
to the Plain, friend."

" What road then farest thou away from us?" said the
goodwife.

" The way of my will," he answered.

" And what way is that ? " said she ; " take heed, lest I get a
longing to know. For then must thou needs tell me, or deal
with the carle there beside thee."

<c Nay, goodwife," said Face-of-god, " let not that longing
take thee; for on that matter I am even as wise as thou. Now
good speed to thee and to the new-comer I "

Therewith he went close up to the wain, and reached out
his hand to her, and she gave him hers and he kissed it, and
so went his ways smiling kindly on them. Then the carle cried
to his kine, and they bent down their heads to the yoke; and
presently,, as he walked on, he heard the rumble of the wain
mingling with the tinkling of their bells, which in a little while
became measured and musical, and sounded above the creak-
ing of the axles and the rattle of the gear and the roll of the

27

More neigh- great wheels over the road : and so it grew thinner and thinner

hours come till it all died away behind him,

on to the jj e was now come to where the river turned away from the

to witr° mCn s ^ eer rock-wall, which was not so high there as in most other

places, as there had been in old time long screes from the cliff,
which had now grown together, with the waxing of herbs and
the washing down of the earth on to them, and made a steady
slope or low hill going down riverward. Over this the road
lifted itself above the level of the meadows, keeping a little
way from the cliffs, while on the other side its bank was some-
what broken and steep here and there. As Face-of-god came
up to one of these broken places, the sun rose over the eastern

{>ass, and the meadows grew golden with its long beams. He
ingered, and looked back under his hand, and as he did so
heard the voices and laughter of women coming up from the
slope below him,and presently a young woman came strugg-
ling up the broken bank with hand and knee, and cast herself
down on the roadside turf laughing and panting. She was a
long-limbed light-made woman, dark-faced and black-hair-
ed: amidst her laughter she looked up and saw Gold-mane,
who had stopped at once when he saw her; she held out her
hands to him, and said lightly, though her face flushed withal :

" Come hither, thou, and help the others to climb the bank ;
for they are beaten in the race, and now must they do after my
will; that was the forfeit."

He went up to her, and took her hands and kissed them,
as was the custom of the Dale, and said:

" Hail to thee, Long-coat! who be they, and whither away
this morning early? "

She looked hard at him, and fondly belike, as she answered
slowly: "They be the two maidens of my father's house,
whom thou knowest; and our errand, all three of us, is to
Burgstead, to the Feast of the Wine of Increase which shall
be drunk this even."

As she spake came another woman half up the bank, to
whom went Face-of-god, and, taking her hands, drew her
up while she laughed merrily in his race: he saluted her as
28

he had Long-coat, and then with a laugh turned aboutto wait Face-of-god
for the third; who came indeed, but after a little while, for g» vc th doom
she had abided, hearing their voices. Her also Gold-mane concerning
drew up, and kissed her hands, and she lay on the grass by c °
Long-coat, but the second maiden stood up beside the young
man. She was white-skinned and golden-haired, a very fair
damsel, whereas the last-comer was but comely, as were well-
nigh all the women of the Dale,

Said Face-of-god, looking on the three: "How comes it,
maidens, that ye are but in your kirtles this sharp autumn
morning? or where have ye left your gowns or your cloaks?"

For indeed they were clad but in dose-fitting blue kirtles
of fine wool, embroidered about the hems with gold and co-
loured threads.

The last-comer laughed and said: "What ails thee, Gold-
mane, to be so careful of us, as if thou wert our mother or
our nurse? Yet if thou must needs know, there hang our
gowns on the thorn-bush down yonder; for we have been
running a match and a forfeit; to wit, that she who was last
on the highway should go down again and bring them up all
three ; and now that is my day's work : but since thou art here,
Alderman's son, thou shalt go down instead of me and fetch
them up."

But he laughed merrily and outright, and said : " That will
I not, for there be but twenty-four hours in the day, and what
between eating and drinking and talking to fair maidens, I
have enough to do in every one of them. Wasteful are ye
women, and simple is your forfeit. Now will I, who am the
Alderman's son, give rorth a doom, and will ordain that one
of you fetch up the gowns yourselves, and that Long-coat
be the one; for she is the fleetest-footed and ablest thereto.
Will ye take my doom? for later on I shall not be wiser."

"Yea," said the fair woman, "not because thou art the
Alderman's son, but because thou art the fairest man of the
Dale, and mayst bid us poor souls what thou wilt."

Face-of-god reddened at her words, and the speaker and
the last-comer laughed; but Long-coat held her peace: she

29

He cometh cast one very sober look on him, and then ran lightly down
into the the bent ; he drew near the edge of it, and watched her going ;
beech-wood f or jj er light-foot slimness was fair to look on : and he noted

that when she was nigh the thorn-bush whereon hung the
bright-broidered gowns, and deemed belike that she was not
seen, she kissed both her hands where he had kissed them
erst.

Thereat he drew aback and turned away shyly, scarce look-
ing at the other twain, who smiled on him with somewhat
jeering looks ; but he bade them farewell and departed
speedily; and if they spoke, it was but softly, for he heard
their voices no more.

He went on under the sunlight which was now gilding the
outstanding stones of the cliffs, and still his mind was set
upon the Bride; and his meeting with the mother of the yet
unborn baby, and with the three women with their' freshness
and fairness, did somehow turn his thought the more upon
her, since she was the woman who was to be his amongst all
women, for she was far fairer than any one of them ; and
through all manner of life and through all kinds of deeds
would he be with her, and know more of her fairness and
kindness than any other could: and him-seemed he could
see pictures of her and of him amidst all these deeds and
ways.

Now he went very swiftly; for he was eager, though he
knew not for what, and he thought but little of the things on
which his eyes fell. He met none else on the road till he was
come to Wildlake's Way, though he saw folk enough down
in the meadows; he was soon amidst the first of the trees,
and without making any stay set his face east and somewhat
north, that is, toward the slopes that led to the great moun-
tains. He said to himself aloud, as he wended the wood:
"Strange! yestereven I thought much of the wood, and I set
my mind on not going thither, and this morning I thought
nothing of it, and here am I amidst its trees, and wending to-
wards its innermost."

30

His way was easy at first, because the wood for a little A path before
space was all of beech, so that there was no undergrowth, him that
and he went lightly betwixt the tall grey and smooth boles ; 8Ccmct Jj likc
albeit his heart was nought so gay as it was in the dale amidst a ot ° mcn
the sunshine. After a while the beech-wood grew thinner,
and at last gave out altogether, and he came into a space of
rough broken ground with nought but a few scrubby oaks
and thorn-bushes growing thereon here and there. The sun
was high in the heavens now, and shone brightly down on the
waste, though there were a few white clouds high up above
him. The rabbits scuttled out of the grass before him; here
and there he turned aside from a stone on which lay coiled
an adder sunning itself; now and again both hart and hind
bounded away from before him, or a sounder of wild swine
ran grunting away toward closer covert. But nought did he
see but the common sights and sounds of the woodland; nor
did he look for aught else, for he knew this part of the
woodland indifferent well.

He held on over this treeless waste for an hour or more,
when the ground began to be less rugged, and he came upon
trees again, but thinly scattered, oak and ash and hornbeam
not right great, with thickets of holly and blackthorn be-
tween them. The set of the ground was still steadily up to
the east and north-east, and he followed it as one who wend-
eth an assured way. At last before him seemed to rise a wall
of trees and thicket ; but when he drew near to i t, lo ! an open-
ing in a certain place, and a little path as if men were wont to
thread the tangle of the wood thereby; though hitherto he
had noted no slot of men, nor any sign of them, since he had
plunged into the deep of the beech-wood. He took the path
as one who needs must, and went his ways as it led. In sooth
it was well-nigh blind, but he was a deft woodsman, and by
means of it skirted many a close thicket that had otherwise
stayed him. So on he went, and though the boughs were
close enough overhead, and the sun came through but in
flecks, he judged that it was growing towards noon, and he

3i

The token of wotted well that he was growing aweary. For he had been
a dwelling of long afoot, and the more part of the time on a rough way, or
mcn breasting a slope which was at whiles steep enough.

At last the track led him skirting about an exceeding close
thicket into a small clearing, through which ran a little wood-
land rill amidst rushes and dead leaves: there was a low
mound near the eastern side of this wood-lawn, as though
there had once been a dwelling of man there, but no other
sign or slot of man was there.

So Face-of-god made stay in that place, casting himself
down beside the rill to rest him and eat and drink somewhat.
Whatever thoughts had been with him through the wood
(and they had been many) concerning his House and his
name, and his father, and the journey he might make to the
cities of the Westland, and what was to befall him when he was
wedded, and what war or trouble should be on his hands —
all this was now mingled together and confused by this rest
amidst his weariness. He laid down his scrip, and drew his
meat from it and ate what he would, and dipping his gilded
beaker into the' brook, drank water smacking of the damp
musty savour of the woodland; and then his head sank back
on a little mound in the short turf, and he fell asleep at once.
A long dream he had in short space; and therein were blent
his thoughts of the morning with the deeds of yesterday;
and other matters long forgotten in his waking hours came
back to his slumber in unordered confusion: all which made
up for him pictures clear, but of little meaning, save that, as
oft befalls in dreams, whatever he was a-doing he felt himself
belated.

When he awoke, smiling at something strange in hisgone-
by dream, he looked up to the heavens, thinking to see signs
of the even at hand, for he seemed to have been dreaming so
long. The sky was thinly overcast by now, but by his wonted
woodcraft he knew the whereabouts of the sun, and that it
was scant an hour afternoon. He sat there till he was wholly
awake, and then drank once more of the woodland water;

3*

and he said to himself, but out loud, for he was fain of the Hegoethon
sound of a man's voice, though it were but his own : M» wa y *&**

" What is mine errand hither ? Whither wend I ? What
shall I have done to-morrow that I have hitherto left undone?
Or what manner of man shall I be then other than I am
now?"

Yet though he said the words he failed to think the
thought, or it left him in a moment of time, and he thought
but of the Bride and her kindness. Yet that abode with him
but a moment, and again he saw himself and those two wo-
men on the highway edge, and Long-coat lingering on the
slope below, kissing his kisses on her hands; and he was sor-
ry that she desired him overmuch, for she was a fair woman
and a friendly. But all that also flowed from him at once, and
he hadno thought in him but that he also desired something
that he lacked: and this was a burden to him, and he rose up
frowning, and said to himself, " Am I become a mere sport
of dreams, whether I sleep or wake? I will go backward — or
forward, but will think no more/'

Then he ordered his gear again, and took the path onward
and upward toward the Great Mountains; and the track was
even fainter than before for a while, so that he had to seek
his way diligently.

CHAPTER V. FACE-OF-GOD FALLS IN WITH
MENFOLK ON THE MOUNTAIN.

NOW he plodded on steadily, and for a long time the
forest changed but little, and of wild things he saw
only a few of those that love the closest covert. The
ground still went up and up, though at whiles were hollows,
and steeper bents out of them again, and the half-blind path
or slot still led past the close thickets and fallen trees, and he
made way without let or hindrance. At last once more the
wood began to thin, and the trees themselves to be smaller
and gnarled and ill-grown : therewithal the day was waning,
xv.d 33

He cometh and the sky was quite clear again as the afternoon grew into

intothepine- a fair autumn evening.

woods j^j ow t h e trees f a ii e( } altogether, and the slope grown

steeper was covered with heather and ling; and looking up,
he saw before him quite near by seeming in the clear even
(though indeed they were yet far away) the snowy peaks
flushed with the sinking sun against the frosty dark-grey
eastern sky; and below them the dark rock-mountains, and
below these again, and nigh to him indeed, the fells covered
with pine-woods and looking like a wall to the heaths he trod.
He stayed a little while and turned his head to look at the
way whereby he had come; but that way a swell of the oak-
forest hid everything but the wood itself, making a wall be-
hind him as the pine-wood made a wall before. There came
across him then a sharp memory of the boding words which
Stone-face had spoken last night, and he felt as if he were now
indeed within the trap. But presently he laughed and said:
"lama fool : this comes of beingalone in the dark wood and
the dismal waste, after the merry faces of the Dale had swept
away my foolish musings of yesterday and the day before.
Lo! here I stand, a man of the Face, sword and axe by my
side; if death come, it can but come once; and if I fear not
death, what shall make me afraid? The Gods hate me not,
and will not hurt me; and they are not ugly, but beauteous."
Therewith he strode on again, and soon came to a place
where the ground sank into a shallow valley and the ling gave
place to grass for a while, and there were tall old pines scat-
tered about, and betwixt them grey rocks; this he passed
through, climbing a steep bent out of it, and the pines were
all about him now, though growing wide apart, till at last he
came to where they thickened into a wood, not very close,
wherethrough he went merrily ,singing to himself and swing-
ing his spear. He was soon through this wood, and came on
to a wide well-grassed wood-lawn, hedged by the wood
aforesaid on three sides, but sloping up slowly toward the
black wall of the thicker pine-wood on the fourth side, and
about half a furlong overthwart and endlong. The sun had

34

set while he was in the last wood, but it was still broad day- A house in
light on the wood-lawn, and as he stood there he was ware of thc p»ne-
a house under the pine-wood on the other side, built long woo< *
and low, much like the houses of the Woodland-Carles, but
rougher fashioned and of unhewn trees. He gazed on it, and
said aloud to himself as his wont was :

"Marvellous! here is a dwelling of man, scarce a day's
journey from Burgstead ; yet have I never heard tell of it:
may happen some of the Woodland-Carles have built it, and
are on some errand of hunting peltries up in the mountains,
or maybe are seeking copper and tin among the rocks. Well,
at least let us go see what manner of men dwell there, and if
they are minded for a guest to-night ; for fain were I of a bed
beneath a roof, and of a board with strong meat and drink on
it.

Therewith he set forward, not heeding much that the A spear from
wood he had passed through was hard on his left hand; but the wood
he had gone but twenty paces when he saw a red thing at the
edge of the wood, and then a glitter, and a spear came whist-
ling forth, and smote his own spear so hard close to the steel
that it flew out of his hand; then came a great shout, and a
man clad in a scarlet kirtle ran forth on him. Face-of-god
had his axe in his hand in a twinkling, and ran at once to meet
his foe; but the man had the hill on his side as he rushed on
with a short-sword in his hand. Axe and sword clashed to-
gether for a moment of time, and then both the men rolled
over on the grass together, and Face-of-god as he fell deemed
that he heard the shrill cry of a woman. Now Face-of-god
found that he was the nethermost, for if he was strong, yet
was his foe stronger; the axe had flown out of his hand also,
while the strange man still kept a hold of his short-sword ;
and presently, though he still struggled all he could, he saw
the man draw back his hand to smite with the said sword ; and
at that nick of time the foeman's knee was on his breast, his
left hand was doubled back behind him, and his right wrist
was gripped hard in the stranger's left hand. Even therewith
his ears, sharpened by the coming death, heard the sound of
D2 35

A fair woman footsteps and fluttering raiment drawing near; something

dark came between him and the sky; there was the sound of
a great stroke, and the big man loosened his grip and fell off
him to one side.

Face-of-god leapt up and ran to his axe and got hold of it ;
but turning round found himself face to face with a tall wo-
man holding in her hand a stout staff like the limb of a tree.
She was calm and smili ng, though forsooth it was she who had
stricken the stroke and stayed the sword from his throat. His
hand and axe dropped down to his side when he saw what it
was that faced him, and that the woman was young and fair;
so he spake to her and said:

" What aileth, maiden ? is this man thy foe ? doth he oppress
thee? shall I slay him?"

She laughed and said : " Thou art open-handed in thy prof-
fers: he might haveasked the like concerning thee buta min-
ute ago."

" Yea, yea," said Gold-mane, laughing also, " but he asked
it not of thee."

"That is sooth," she said, "but since thou hast asked me,
I will tell thee that if thou slay him it will be my harm as well
as his; and in my country a man that taketh a gift is not wont
to break the giver's head with it straightway. The man is my
brother, O stranger, and presently, ifthou wilt, thou mayst
be eating at the same board with him. Or ifthou wilt, thou
mayst go thy ways unhurt into the wood. But I had liefer of
the twain that thou wert in our house to-night ; for thou hast
a wrong against us."

Her voice was sweet and clear, and she spake the last words
kindly, and drew somewhat nigher to Gold-mane. There-
withal the smitten man sat up, and put his hand to his head,
and quoth he:

"Angry is my sister! good it is to wear the helm abroad
when she shaketh the nut-trees."

"Nay," said she, "it is thy luck that thou wert bare-
headed, else had I been forced to smite thee on the face. Thou
churl, since when hath it been our wont to thrust knives into

36

a guest, who is come of great kin, a man of gentle heart and Peace is
fair face? Come hither and handsel him self-doom for thy made
fool's onset ! "

The man rose to his feet and said : " Well, sister, least said,
soonest mended. A clout on the head is worse than a woman's
chiding; but since ye have given me one, ye may forbear the
other."

Therewith he drew near to them. He was a very big-made
man, most stalwarth, with dark red hair and a thin pointed
beard; his nose was straight and fine, his eyes grey and well-
opened, but somewhat fierce withal. Yet was he in nowise
evil-looking; he seemed some thirty summers old. He was
clad in a short scarlet kirtle, a goodly garment, with a hood
of like web pulled off his head on to his shoulders: he bore a
great gold ring on his left arm, and acollar of gold came down
on to his breast from under his hood.

As for the woman, she was clad in a long white linen
smock, and over it a short gown of dark blue woollen, and
she had skin shoes on her feet.

Now the man came up to Face-of-god, and took his hand
and said: "I deemed thee a foe, and I may not have over-
many foes alive: but it seems that thou art to be a friend, and
that is well and better; so herewith I handsel thee self-doom
in the matter of the onslaught."

Then Face-of-god laughed and said: "The doom is soon
given forth; against the tumble on the grass I set the clout
on the head; there is nought left over to pay to any man's

son."

Said the scarlet-clad man : "Belike by thine eyes thou art
a true man, and wilt not bewray me. Now is there no foeman
here, but rather maybe a friend both now and in time to
come." Therewith he cast his arms about Face-of-god and
kissed him. But Face-of-god turned about to the woman
and said : " Is the peace wholly made ? "

She shook her head and said soberly: "Nay, thou art too
fair for a woman to kiss."

He flushed red, as his wont was when a woman praised

37

On the
threshold
of the house

him; yet was his heart full of pleasure and well-liking. But
she laid her hand on his shoulder and said: "Now is it for
thee to choose betwixt the wild-wood and the hall, and
whether thou wilt be a guest or a wayfarer this night."

As she touched him there took hold of him a sweetness of
pleasure he had never felt erst, and he answered: " I will be
thy guest and not thy stranger."

" Come then," she said, and took his hand in hers, so that
he scarce felt the earth under his feet, as they went all three
together toward the house in the gathering dusk, while east-
ward where the peaks of the great mountains dipped was a
light that told of the rising of the moon.

CHAPTER VI. OF FACE-OF-GOD AND THOSE
MOUNTAIN-DWELLERS.

A YARD or two from the threshold Gold-mane hung
/\ back a moment, entangled in some such misgiving as
JL Y>a man is wont to feel when he is just about to do some
new deed, but is not yet deep in the story; his new friends
noted that, for they smiled each in their own way, and the
woman drew her hand away from his. Face-of-god held out
his still as though to take hers again, and therewithal he
changed countenance and said as though he had stayed but
to ask that question :

"Tell me thy name, tall man; and thou, fair woman, tell
me thine; for how can we talk together else! "

The man laughed outright and said : " The young chief-
tain thinks that this house also should be his! Nay, young
man, I know what is in thy thought, be not ashamed that
thou art wary; and be assured! We shall hurt thee no more
than thou hast been hurt. Now as to my name ; the name
that was born with me is gone: the name that was given me
hath been taken from me: now I belike must give myself a
name, and thatshall be Wild-wearer; but it maybe that thou
thyself shalt one day give me another, and call me Guest."

His sister gazed at him solemnly as he spoke, and Face-

38

of-god beholding her the while, deemed that her beauty They enter
grew and grew till she seemed as aweful as a Goddess ; and i nt0 the
into his mind it came that this over-strong man and over- housc
lovely woman were nought mortal, and they withal dealing
with him as father and mother deal with a wayward child:
then for a moment his heart failed him, and he longed for
the peace of Burgdale, and even the lonely wood. But there-
with she turned to him and let her hand come into his again,
and looked kindly on him and said: "And as for me, call me
the Friend; the name is good and will serve for many
things."

He looked down from her face and his eyes lighted on her
hand, and when he noted even amid the evening dusk how
fair and lovely it was fashioned, and vet as though it were
deft in the crafts that the daughters of menfolk use, his fear
departed, and the pleasure of his longing filled his heart, and
he drew her hand to him to kiss it ; but she held it back. Then
he said: " It is the custom of the Dale to all women."

So she let him kiss her hand, heeding the kiss nothing,
and said soberly :

" Then art thou of Burgdale, and if it were lawful to guess,
I would say that thy name is Face-of-god, of the House of
the Face."

"Even so it is," said he, " but in the Dale those that love
me do mostly call me Gold-mane."

"It is well named," she said, "and seldom wilt thou be
called otherwise, for thou wilt be well-beloved. But come in
now, Gold-mane, for night is at hand, and here have we meat
and lodging such as an hungry and weary man may take;
though we be broken people, dwellers in the waste."

Therewith she led him gently over the threshold into the
hall, and it seemed to him as if she were the fairest and the
noblest of all the Queens of ancient story.

When he was in the house he looked and saw that, rough
as it was without it lacked not fairness within. The floor was
of hard-trodden earth strewn with pine-twigs, and with here
and there brown bearskins laid on it : there was a standing

39

The fashion table near the upper end athwart the hall, and a dais beyond
of the hall that, but no endlong table. Gold-mane looked to the shut-
beds, and saw that they were large and fair, though there
were but a few of them ; and at the lower end was a loft for a
sleeping chamber dight very fairly with broidered cloths.
The hangings on the walls, though they left some places
bare which were hung with fresh boughs, were fairer than
any he had ever seen, so that he deemed that they must come
from far countries and the City of Cities : therein were images
wrought of warriors and fair women of old time and their
dealings with the Gods and the Giants, and Wondrous
Wights; and he deemed that this was the story of some great
kindred, and that their token and the sign of their banner
must needs be the Wood-wolf, for everywhere was it wrought
in these pictured webs. Perforce he looked long and earnest-
ly at these fair things, for the hall was not dark yet, because
the brands on the hearth were flaming their last, and when
Wild-wearer beheld him so gazing, he stood up and looked
too for a moment, and then smote his right hand on the hilt
of his sword, and turned away and strode up and down the
hall as one in angry thought.

But the woman, even the Friend, bestirred herself for the
service of the guest, and brought water for his hands and
feet, and when she had washed him, bore him the wine of
Welcome and drank to him and bade him drink; and he all
the while was shamefaced; for it was to him as if one of the
Ladies of the Heavenly Burg were doing him service.Then
she went away by a door at the lower end of the hall, and
Wild-wearer came and sat down by Gold-mane, and fell
a-talking with him about the ways of the Dalesmen, and
their garths, and the pastures and growths thereof; and what
temper the carles themselves were of; which were good men,
which were ill, which was loved and which scorned ; no other-
wise than if he had been the goodman of some neighbouring
dale; and Gold-mane told him whatso he knew, for he saw
no harm therein.

After a while the outer door opened, and there came in a
40

woman of some five-and-twenty winters, trimly and strong- Another
ly built; short-skirted she was and clad as a hunter, with a newcomer
bow in her hand and a quiver at her back: she unslung a
pouch, which she emptied at Wild-wearer's feet of a leash of
hares and two brace of mountain grouse; of Face-of-god she
took but little heed.

Said Wild-wearer: "This is good for to-morrow, not for
to-day; the meat is well-nigh on the board."

Then Gold-mane smiled, for he called to mind his home-
coming of yesterday. But the woman said:

"The fault is not mine; she told me of the coming guest
but three hours agone."

" Ay ? " said Wild-wearer," she looked for a guest then ? "

" Yea, certes," said the woman, "else why went I forth
this afternoon, as wearied as I was with yesterday? "

"Well, well," said Wild-wearer, "get to thy due work or
go play; I meddle not with meat! and for thee all jests are as
bitter earnest."

"And with thee, chief," she said, "it is no otherwise;
surely I am made on thy model."

"Thy tongue is longer, friend," said he; "now tarry if
thou wilt, and if the supper's service craveth thee not."

She turned away with one keen look at Face-of-god, and
departed through the door at the lower end of the hall.

By this time the hall was dusk, for there were no candles
there, and the hearth-fire was but smouldering. Wild- wearer
sat silent and musing now, and Face-of-god spake not, for he
was deep in wild and happy dreams. At last the lower door
opened and the fair woman came into the hall with a torch in
either hand, after whom came the huntress, now clad in a dark
blue kirtle, and an old woman yet straight and hale ; and these
twain bore in the victuals and the table-gear. Then the three
fell to dighting the board, and when it was all ready, and Gold-
mane and Wild-wearer were set down to it, and with them
the fair woman and the huntress, the old woman threw good
store of fresh brands on the hearth, so that the light shone into
every corner; and even therewith the outer door opened, and

4i

More men four more men entered, whereof one was old, but big and stal-
come into warth, the other three young: they were all clad roughly in
the hall sheep-brown weed, but had helm supon their heads and spears

in their hands and great swords girt to their sides; and they
seemed doughty men and ready for battle. One of the young
men cast down by the door the carcass of a big-horned moun-
tain sheep, and then they all trooped off to the out-bower by
the lower door, and came back presently fairly clad and with-
out their weapons. Wild- wearer nodded to them kindly, and
they sat at table paying no more heed to Face-of-god than to
cast him a nod for salutation.

Then said the old woman to them : c< Well, lads, have ye
been doing or sleeping? "

"Sleeping, mother," said one of the young men, "as was
but due after last night was, and to-morrow shall be."

Said the huntress : c< Hold thy peace, Wood-wise, and let
thy tongue help thy teeth to deal with thy meat; for this is not
the talking hour."

" Nay, Bow-may," said another of the swains, "since here
is a new man, now is the time to talk to him."

Said the huntress : " 'Tis thine hands that talk best, Wood-
wont; it is not they that shall bring thee to shame."

Spake the third: "What have we to do with shame here,
for away from dooms and doomers, and elders, and wardens,
and guarded castles? If the new man listeth to speak, let him
speak;or to fight, then let him;it shall ever be man toman."

Then spake the old woman : " Son Wood-wicked, hold thy
peace, and forget the steel that ever eggeth thee on to draw."

Therewith she set the last matters on the board, while the
three swains sat and eyed Gold-mane somewhat fiercely, now
that words had stirred them, and he had sat there saying no-
thing, as one who was better than they, and contemned
them ; but now spake Wild-wearer:

"Whoso hungreth let him eat! Whoso would slumber,
let him to bed. But he who would bicker, it must needs be
with me. Here is a man of the Dale, who hath sought the
wood in peace, and hath found us. His hand is ready and his

4*

heart is guileless: if ye fear him, run away to the wood, and Talk in the
come back when he is gone; but none shall mock him while h *H
I sit by: now, lads, be merry and blithe with the guest."

Then the young men greeted Gold-mane, and the old man
said: "Art thou of Burgstead? then wilt thou be of the
House of the Face, and thy name will be Face-of-god ; for
that man is called the fairest of the Dale, and there shall be
none fairer than thou."

Face-of-god laughed and said : " There be but few mirrors
in Burgdale,and I have no mind to journey west to thecities
to see what manner of man I be: that were ill husbandry.
But now I have heard the names of the three swains, tell me
thy name, father!"

Spake the huntress: " This is my father's brother, and his
name is Wood-father ; or ye shall call him so : and I am called
Bow-may because I shoot well in the bow : and this old carl ine
is my erne's wife, and now belike my mother, if I need one.
But thou, fair-faced Dalesman, little dost thou need a mirror
in the Dale so long as women abide there; for their faces
shall be instead of mirrors to tell thee whether thou be fair
and lovely."

Thereat they all laughed and fell to their victual, which
was abundant, of wood-venison and mountain-fowl, but of
bread was no great plenty; wine lacked not, and that of the
best; and Gold-mane noted that the cups and the apparel of
the horns and mazers were not of gold nor gilded copper,
but of silver; and he marvelled thereat, for in the Dale silver
was rare.

So they ate and drank, and Gold-mane looked ever on the
Friend, and spake much with her, and he deemed her friend-
ly indeed, and she seemed most pleased when he spoke best,
and led him on to do so. Wild-wearer was but of few words,
and those somewhat harsh; yet was he as a man striving to
be courteous and blithe; but of the others Bow-may was the
greatest speaker.

Wild-wearer called healths to the Sun, and the Moon,
and the Hosts of Heaven ; to the Gods of the Earth; to the

43

Wild-wearer Wood- wights ; and to the Guest.Other healths also he called,
calleth the meaning of which was dark to Gold-mane; to wit, the

J2JJ Jaws of the Wolf; the Silver Arm; the Red Hand; the

Golden Bushel ; and the Ragged Sword. But when he asked
the Friend concerning these names what they might signify,
she shook her head and answered not.

At last Wild-wearer cried out: "Now, lads, the night
weareth and the guest is weary: therefore whoso of you
hath in him any minstrelsy, now let him make it, for later on
it shall be over-late."

Then arose Wood-wont and went to his shut-bed and
groped therein, and took from out of it a fiddle in its case;
and he opened the case and drew from it a very goodly fiddle,
and he stood on the floor amidst of the hall and Bow-may
his cousin with him; and he laid his bow on the fiddle and
woke up song in it, and when it was well awake she fell a-
singing, and he to answering her song, and at the last all they
of the house sang together; and this is the meaning of the
words which they sang:

They sing in SHE SINGETH.

the ^ Now is the rain upon the day,

And every water's wide;
Why busk ye then to wear the way,
And whither will ye ride?

HE SINGETH.

Our kine are on the eyot still,
The eddies lap them round ;

All dykes the wind-worn waters fill,
And waneth grass and ground.

SHE SINGETH.

O ride ye to the river's brim

In war-weed fair to see?
Or winter waters will ye swim

In hauberks to the knee?

44

HE SINGETH. Th« Moun-

Wild is the day, and dim with rain, tain-iong

Our sheep are warded ill;
The wood-wolves gather for the plain,

Their ravening maws to fill.

SHE SINGETH.

Nay, what is this, and what have ye,

A hunter's band, to bear
The Banner of our Battle-glee

The skulking wolves to scare?

HE SINGETH.
O women, when we wend our ways

To deal with death and dread,
The Banner of our Fathers' Days

Must flap the wind o'erhead.

SHE SINGETH.

Ah, for the maidens that ye leave!

Who now shall save the hay?
What grooms shall kiss our lips at eve,

When June hath mastered May?

HE SINGETH.

The wheat is won, the seed is sown,

Here toileth many a maid,
And ere the hay knee-deep hath grown

Your grooms the grass shall wade.

THEY SING ALL TOGETHER.

Then fair befall the mountain-side

Whereon the play shall be!
And fair befell the summer-tide

That whoso lives shall see.

Face-of-god thought the song goodly, but to the others
it was well known. Then said Wood-father:

45

The Song of "O foster-son, thy foster-brother hath sung well for a
the Ford wood abider; but we are deeming that his singing shall be
but as a starling to a throstle matched against thy new-come
guest. Therefore, Dalesman, sing us a song of the Dale, and
if ye will, let it be of gardens and pleasant houses of stone,
and fair damsels therein, and swains with them who toil not
overmuch for a scant livelihood, as do they of the waste,
whose heads may not be seen in the Holy Places."

Said Gold-mane: "Father, it is ill to set the words of a
lonely man afar from his kin against the song that cometh
from the heart of a noble house; yet may I not gainsay thee,
but will sing to thee what I may call to mind, and it is called
the Song of the Ford."

Therewith he sang in a sweet and clear voice : and this is
the meaning of his words :

In hay-tide, through the day new-born,

Across the meads we come;
Our hauberks brush the blossomed corn

A furlong short of home.

Ere yet the gables we behold

Forth flasheth the red sun,
And smites our fallow helms and cold

Though all the fight be done.

In this last mead of mowing-grass

Sweet doth the clover smell,
Crushed 'neath our feet red with the pass

Where hell was blent with hell.

And now the willowy stream is nigh,

Down wend we to the ford;
No shafts across its fishes fly,

Nor flasheth there a sword.

But lol what gleameth on the bank

Across the water wan,
As when our blood the mouse-ear drank

And red the river ran?

4 6

Nay, hasten to the ripple clear, The day's

Look at the grass beyond ! ending

Lo ye the dainty band and dear
Of maidens fair and fondl

Lo how they needs must take the stream!

The water hides their feet;
On fair kind arms the gold doth gleam,

And midst the ford we meet.

Up through the garden two and two,

And on the flowers we drip;
Their wet feet kiss the morning dew

As lip lies close to lip.

Here now we sing; here now we stay:

By these grey walls we tell
The love that lived from out the fray,

The love that fought and fell.

When he was done they all said that he had sung well, and
that the song was sweet. let did Wild-wearer smile some-
what ; and Bow-may said outright : " Soft is the song,and hath
been made by lads and minstrels rather than by warriors."

"Nay, kinswoman," said Wood-father, "thou art hard
to please; the guest is kind, and hath given us that I asked
for, and I give him all thanks therefor."

Face-of-god smiled, but he heeded little what they said,
for as he sang he had noted that the Friend looked kindly on
him; and he thought he saw that once or twice she put out
her hand as if to touch him, but drew it back again each time.
She spake after a little and said :

"Here now hath been a stream of song running betwixt
the Mountain and the Dale even as doth a river; and this is
good to come between our dreams of what hath been and
what shall be." Then she turned to Gold-mane, and said to
him scarce loud enough for all to hear:

" Herewith I bid thee good-night, O Dalesman ; and this
other word I have to thee: heed not what befalleth in the

47

A stir in the night, but sleep thy best, for nought shall be to thy scathe.

night And when thou wak est in the morning, if we are yet here, it

is well; but if we are not, then abide us no long while, but
break thy fast on the vi&ual thou wilt find upon the board,
and so depart and go thy ways home. And yet thou mayst
look to it to see us again before thou diest."

Therewith she held out her hand to him, and he took it
and kissed it ; and she went to her chamber-aloft at the lower
end of the hall. And when she was gone, once more he had a
deeming of her that she was of the kindred of the Gods. At
her departure him-seemed that the hall grew dull and small
and smoky, and the night seemed long to him and doubtful
the coming of the day.

CHAPTER VII. FACE-QF-GOD TALKETH WITH
THE FRIEND ON THE MOUNTAIN.

SO now went all men to bed; and Face-of-god's shut-
bed was over against the outer door and toward the
lower end of the hall, and on the panel about it hung the
weapons and shields of men. Fair was that chamber and
roomy, and the man was weary despite his eagerness, so that
he went to sleep as soon as his head touched the pillow; but
within a while (he deemed about two hours after midnight)
he was awaked by the clattering of the weapons against the
panel, and the sound of men's hands taking them down; and
when he was fully awake, he heard withal men going up and
down the house as if on errands: but he called to mind what
the Friend had said to him, and he did not so much as turn
himself toward the hall; for he said: "Belike these men are
outlaws and Wolves of the Holy Places, yet by seeming they
are good fellows and nought churlish, nor have I to do with
taking up the feud against them. I will abide the morning.
Yet meseemeth that she drew me hither: for what cause?"

Therewith he fell asleepagain,and dreamed no more. But
when he awoke the sun was shining broad upon the hall-floor,
and he sat up and listened, but could hear no sound save the

4 8

moaning of the wind in the pine-boughs and the chatter of The Friend
the starlings about the gables of the house; and the place in the Hall
seemed so exceeding lonely to him that he was in a manner
feared by that loneliness.

Then he arose and clad himself, and went forth into the
hall and gazed about him, and at first he deemed indeed that
there was no one therein. But at last he looked and beheld
the upper gable, and there underneath a most goodly hang-
ing was the glorious shape of a woman sitting on a bench
covered over with a cloth of gold and silver; and he looked
and looked to see if the woman might stir, and if she were
alive, and she turned her head toward him, and lo it was the
Friend; and his heart rose to his mouth for wonder and fear
and desire. For now he doubted whether the other folk were
aught save shows and shadows, and she the Goddess who
had fashioned them out of nothing for his bewilderment,
presently to return to nothing.

Yet whatever he might fear or doubt, he went up the hall
towards her till he was quite nigh to her, and there he stood
silent, wondering at her beauty and desiring her kindness.

Grey-eyed she was like her brother ; but her hair the colour
of red wheat: her lips full and red, her chin round, her nose
fine and straight. Her hands and all her body fashioned ex-
ceeding sweetly and delicately; yet not as if she were an
image of which the like might be found if the craftsman were
but deft enough to make a perfect thing, but in such a way
that there was none like to her for those that had eyes to be-
hold her as she was ; and none could ever be made like to her,
even by such a master-craftsman as could fashion a body
without a blemish.

She was clad in a white smock, whose hems were broidered
with gold wire and precious gems of the Mountains, and
over that a gown woven of gold and silver : scarce hath the
world such another. On her head was a fillet of gold and
gems, and there were wondrous gold rings on her arms: her
feet lay bare on the dark grey wolf-skin that was stretched
before her.

xv. e 49

The Friend She smiled kindly upon his solemn and troubled face, and
talketh with her voice sounded strangely familiar to him coming from all
Face-of-god t ^ at loveliness, as she said: "Hail, Face-of-god! here am I
left alone, although I deemed last night that I should begone
with the others. Therefore am I fain to show myself to thee
in fairer array than yesternight; for though we dwell in the
wild-wood, afar from the solace of folk, yet are we not ot
thralls' blood. But come now, I bid thee break thy fast and
talk with me a little while; and then shalt thou depart in
peace."

Spake Face-of-god, and his voice trembled as he spake:
"What art thou? Last night I deemed at whiles once and
again that thou wert of the Gods ; and now that I behold thee
thus, and it is broad daylight, and of those others is no more
to be seen than if they had never lived, I cannot but deem
that it is even so, and that thou comest from the City that
shall never perish. Now if thou be a Goddess, I have nought
to pray thee, save to slay me speedily if thou hast a mind for
my death. But if thou art a woman — "

She broke in : " Gold-mane, stay thy prayer and hold thy
peace for this time,lest thou repent when repentance availeth
not. And this I say because I am none of the Gods nor akin
to them, save far off through the generations, as art thou also,
and all men of goodly kindred. Now I bid thee eat thy meat,
since 'tis ill talking betwixt a full man and a fasting; and I
have dight it myself with mine own hands; for Bow-may and
the Wood-mother went away with the rest three hours be-
fore dawn. Come sit and eat as thou hast a hardy heart; as
forsooth thou shouldest do if I were a very Goddess. Take
heed, friend, lest I take thee for some damsel of the lower
Dale arrayed in Earl's garments."

She laughed therewith, and leaned toward him and put
forth her hand to him, and he took it and caressed it ; and the
exceeding beauty of her body and of the raiment which was
as it were a part of her and her loveliness, made her laughter
and her friendly words strange to him, as if one did not be-
long to the other; as in a dream it might be. Nevertheless he

SO

did as she bade him, and sat at the board and ate, while she Sheasketh
leaned forward on the arm of her chair and spake to him in after his
friendly wise. And he wondered as she spake that she knew kindred
so much of him and his : and he kept saying to himself: " She
drew me hither; wherefore did she so?"

But she said: "Gold-mane, how fareth thy father the
Alderman? is he as good a wright as ever? "

He told her: Yea, that ever was his hammer on the iron,
the copper, and the gold, and that no wright in the Dale was
as deft as he.

Said she : " Would he not have had thee seek to the Cities,
to see the ways of the outer world?"

"Yea," said he.

She said : "Thou wert wise to nay say that offer ; thou shalt
have enough to do in the Dale and round about it in twelve
months' time."

"Art thou foresighted?" said he.

"Folk have called me so," she said, "but I wot not. But
thy brother Hall-face, how fareth he?"

"Well," said he; "to my deeming he is the Sword of our
House, and the Warrior of the Dale, if the days were ready
for him."

" And Stone-face, that stark ancient," she said, "doth he
still love the Folk of the Dale, and hate all other folks? "

" Nay," he said, " I know not that, but I know that he lov-
eth us, and above all me and my father."

Again she spake: " How fareth the Bride, the fair maid to
whom thou art affianced? "

As she spake, it was to him as if his heart was stricken cold;
but he put a force upon himself, and neither reddened nor
whitened, nor changed countenance in any way; so he an-
swered: "She was well the eve of yesterday." Then he re-
membered what she was, and her beauty and valour, and he
constrained himself to say: "Each day she groweth fairer;
there is no man's son and no daughter of woman that does
not love her; yea, the very beasts of field and fold love
her."

£2 51

A tale of the The Friend looked at him steadily and spake no word,
Burgstead but a red flush mounted to her cheeks and brow and changed
market her face; and he marvelled thereat; for still he misdoubted

that she was a Goddess. But it passed away in a moment, and
she smiled and said :

" Guest, thou seemest to wonder that I know concerning
thee and the Dale and thy kindred. But now shalt thou wot
that I have been in the Dale once and again, and my brother
oftener still; and that I have seen thee before yesterday."

" That is marvellous," quoth he, " for sure am I that I have
not seen thee."

"Yet thou hast seen me," she said; "yet not altogether as I
am now ;" and therewith she smiled on him friendly.

" How is this?" said he; "art thou a skin-changer? "

"Yea, in a fashion," she said. "Hearken! dost thou per-
chance remember a day of last summer when there was a
market holden in Burgstead ; and there stood in the way over
against the House of the Face a tall old carle who was truck-
ing deer-skins for diverse gear; and with him was a queen, tall
and dark-skinned, somewhat well-liking, her hair bound up
in a white coif so that none of it could be seen; by the token
that she had a large stone of mountain blue set in silver stuck
in the said coif?"

As she spoke she set her hand to her bosom an d drew some-
thing from it, and held forth her hand to Gold-mane, and lo
amidst the palm the great blue stone set in silver.

"Wondrous as a dream is this," said Face-of-god, "for
these twain I remember well, and what followed."

She said: " I will tell thee that. There came a man of the
Shepherd-Folk, drunk or foolish, or both, who began to
chaffer with the big carle; but ever on the queen were his eyes
set, and presently he put forth his hand to her to clip her,
whereon the big carle hove up his fist and smote him, so that
he fell to earth noseling. Then ran the folk together to hale oft
the stranger and help the shepherd, and it was like that the
stranger should be mishandled. Then there thrust through
the press a young man with yellow hair and grey eyes, who

52

cried out, " Fellows, let be! The stranger had the right of it ; Face-of-god
this is no matter to make a quarrel or a court case oh Let the must depart
market go on! This man and maid are true folk." So when
the folk heard the young man and his bidding, they forebore
and let the carle and the queen be, and the shepherd went his
ways little hurt. Now then, who was this young man?"

Quoth Gold-mane : " It was even I, and meseemeth it was
no great deed to do."

" Yea," she said, "and the big carle was my brother, and the
tall queen, it was myself."

"How then," said he, "for she was as dark-skinned as a
dwarf, and thou so bright and fair?"

She said: "Well, if the woods are good for nothing else,
yet are they good for the growing of herbs, and I know the
craft of simpling; and with one of these herbs had I stained
my skin and my brother's also. And it showed the darker be-
neath the white coif."

"Yea," said he, "but why must ye needs fere in feigned
shapes? Ye would have been welcome guests in the Dale how-
soever ye had come."

" I may not tell thee hereof as now," said she.

Said Gold-mane : "Yet thou may st belike tell me wherefore
it was that thy brother desired to slay me yesterday, if he
knew me, who I was."

" Gold-mane," she said, "thou art not slain, so little story
need be made of that: for the rest, belike he knew thee not at
that moment. So it falls with us, that we look to see foes rather
than friends in the wild-woods. Many uncouth things are
therein. Moreover, I must tell thee of my brother that whiles
he is as the stalled bull late let loose, and nothing is good to
him save battle and onset ; and then is he blind and knows not
friend from foe."

Said Face-of-god : " Thou hast asked of me and mine ; wilt
thou not tell me of thee and thine?"

"Nay," she said, "not as now; thou must betake thee to
the way. Whither wert thou wending when thou happenedst
upon us?"

S3

The meeting He said: "I know not; I was seeking something, but I
to be knew not what — meseemeth that now I have found it."

"Art thou for the great mountains seeking gems?" she
said. " Yet go not thither to-day : for who knoweth what thou
shalt meet there that shall be thy foe? "

He said : cc Nay, nay ; I have nought to do but to abide here
as long as I may, looking upon thee and hearkening to thy

voice."

Her eyes were upon his, but yet she did not seem to see
him, and for a while she answered not ; and still he wondered
that mere words should come from so fair a thing ; for whether
she moved foot, or hand, or knee, or turned this way or that,
each time she stirred it was a caress to his very heart.

He spake again: "May I not abide here a while? What
scathe may be in that?"

"It is not so," she said; "thou must depart, and that
straightway : lo, there lieth thy spear which the Wood-mother
hath brought in from the waste. Take thy gear to thee and
wend thy ways. Have patience! I will lead thee to the place
where we first met and there give thee farewell."

Therewith she arose and he also perforce, and when they
came to the doorway she stepped across the threshold and
then turned back and gave him her hand and soled him forth,
the sun flashing back from her golden raiment.Together they
went over the short grey grass of that hill-side till they came
to the place where he had arisen from that wrestle with her
brother. There she stayed him and said:

" This is the place; here must we part."

But his heart failed him and he faltered in his speech as he
said:

"When shall I see thee again? Wilt thou slay me if I seek
to thee hither once more? "

"Hearken," she said, "autumn is nowa-dying into winter :
let winter and its snows go past : nor seek to me hither ; for me
thou shouldst not find, but thy death thou mightest well fall
in with ; and I would not that thou shouldest die. When win-
ter is gone, and spring is on the land, if thou hast not forgotten

54

us thou shalt meet us again. Yet shalt thou go further than The woman
this Woodland Hall. In Shadowy Vale shalt thou seek to me goeth into
then, and there will I talk with thee." thc housc

" And where," said he, " is Shadowy Vale ? for thereof have
I never heard tell."

She said : " The token when it cometh to thee shall show
thee thereof and the way thither. Art thou a babbler, Gold-
mane?"

He said: " I have won no prize for babbling hitherto."

She said: " If thou listest to babble concerning what hath
befallen thee on the Mountain, so do, and repent it once only,
that is, thy life long."

"Why should I say any word thereof?" said he. "Dost
thou not know the sweetness of such a tale untold? "

He spake asone who is somewhat wrathful,and she answer-
ed humbly and kindly:

" Well is that. Bide thou the token that shall lead thee to
Shadowy Vale. Farewell now."

She drew her hand from his, and turned and went her ways
swiftly to the house: he could not choose but gaze on her as
she went glittering-bright and fair in that grey place of the
mountains, till the dark doorway swallowed up her beauty.
Then he turned away and took the path through the pine-
woods, muttering to himself as he went :

"What thing have I done now that hitherto I had not
done? What manner of man am I to-day other than the man
I was yesterday?"

CHAPTER VIII. FACE-OF-GOD COMETH HOME
AGAIN TO BURGSTEAD.

FACE-OF-GOD went back through the wood by the
way he had come, paying little heed to the things about
him. For whatever he thought of strayed not one whit
from the image of the Fair Woman of the Mountain-side.

He went through the wood swiftlier than yesterday, and
made no stay for noon or aught else, nor did he linger on the

SS

Face-of-god road when he was come into the Dale, either to speak to any
in gay attire or to note what they did. So he came to the House of the Face
about dusk, and found no man within the hall either carle or
queen. So he cried out on the folk, and there came in a damsel
of the house, whom he greeted kindly and she him again. He
bade her bring the washing-water, and she did so and washed
his feet and his hands. She was a fair maid enough, as were
most in the Dale, but he heeded her little ; and when she was
done he kissed not her cheek for her pains, as his wont was, but
let her go her ways un thanked. But he went to his shut-bed
and opened his chest, and drew fair raiment from it, and did
off his wood-gear, and did on him a goodly scarlet kirtle fairly
broidered, and a collar with gems of price therein, and other
braveries. And when he was so attired he came out into the
hall, and there was old Stone-face standing by the hearth,
which was blazing brightly with fresh brands, so that things
were clear to see.

Stone-face noted Gold-mane's gay raiment, for he was not
wont to wear such attire, save on the feasts and high days
when he behoved to. So the old man smiled and said :

"Welcome back from the Wood! But what is it? Hast
thou been wedded there, or who hath made thee Earl and

Kin g ? "
Said Face-of-god : " Foster-father, sooth it is that I have

been to the wood, but there have I seen nought of manfolk

worse than myself. Now as to my raiment, needs must I keep

it from the moth. And I am weary withal, and this kirtle is

light and easy to me. Moreover, I look to see the Bride here

again, and I would pleasure her with the sight of gay raiment

upon me."

"Nay," said Stone-face, " hast thou not seen some woman
in the wood arrayed like the image of a God? and hath she
not bidden thee thus to worship her to-night? For I know
that such wights be in the wood, and that such is theirwont."

Said Gold-mane: "I worship nought save the Gods and
the Fathers. Nor saw I in the wood any such as thou sayest."

56

to the Cities

Therewith Stone-face shook his head ; but after a while he They will
said : " Art thou for the wood to-morrow ? ' ' havc hixn 8°

"Nay," said Gold-mane angrily, knitting his brows.

"The morrow of to-morrow," said Stone-face, "is the
day when we look to see the Westland merchants: after all,
wilt thou not go hence with them when they wend their
ways back before the first snows fall? "

" Nay," said he, " I have no mind to it, fosterer ; cease egg-
ing me on hereto,"

Then Stone-face shook his head again, and looked on him
long, and muttered : "To the wood wilt thou go to-morrow
or next day; or some day when doomed is thine undoing."

Therewith entered the service and torches, and presently
after came the Alderman with Hall-face; and Iron-face
greeted his son and said to him : " Thou hast not hit the time
to do on thy gay raiment, for the Bride will not be here to-
night; she bideth still at the Feast at the Apple-tree House:
or wilt thou be there, son ? "

" Nay," said Face-of-god, " I am over-weary. And as for
my raiment, it is well; it is for thine honour and the honour
of the name."

So to table they went, and Iron-face asked his son of his
ways again, and whether he was quite fixed in his mind not
to go down to the Plain and the Cities : " For," said he, " the
morrow of to-morrow shall the merchants be here, and this
were great news for them if the son of the Alderman should
be their faring-fellow back."

But Face-of-god answered without any haste or heat:
"Nay, father, it may not be: fear not, thou shalt see that I
have a good will to work and live in the Dale."

And in good sooth, though he was a young man and loved
mirth and the ways of his own will, he was a stalwarth work-
man, and few could mow a match with him in the hay-month
and win it; or fell trees as certainly and swiftly, or drive as
straight and clean a furrow through the stiffland of the lower
Dale; and in other matters also was he deft and sturdy.

57

CHAPTER IX. THOSE BRETHREN FARE TO
THE YEW-WOOD WITH THE BRIDE.

On the road T^ T EXT morning Face-of-god dight himself for work,
to the Yew- I ^kl and took his axe ; for his brother Hall-face had bidden
wood Jl ^1 h^ g Q d own w j t h him to the Yew-wood and cut

timber there, since he of all men knew where to go straight
to the sticks that would quarter best for bow-staves; whereas
the Alderman had the right of hewing in that wood. So they
went forth, those brethren, from the House of the Face, but
when they were gotten to the gate, who should be there but
the Bride awaiting them, and she with an ass duly saddled
for bearing the yew-sticks. Because Hall-face had told her
tnat he and belike Gold-mane were going to hew in the wood,
and she thought it good to be of the company, as oft had be-
fallen erst. When they met she greeted Face-of-god and
kissed him as her wont was; and he looked upon her and saw
how fair she was, and how kind and friendly were her eyes
that beheld him, and how her whole face was eager for him
as their lips parted. Then his heart foiled him, when he knew
that he no longer desired her as she did him, and he said
within himself: c< Would that she had been of our nighest
kindred! Would that I had had a sister and that this were
she!"

So the three went along the highway down the Dale, and
Hall-face and the Bride talked merrily together and laughed,
for she was happy, since she knew that Gold-mane had been
to the wood and was back safe and much as he had been be-
fore. So indeed it seemed of him; for though at first he was
moody and of few words, yet presently he cursed himself
for a mar-sport, and so fell into the talk, and enforced him-
self to be merry ; and soon he was so indeed; for he thought:
" She drew me thither: she hath a deed for me to do. I shall
do the deed and have my reward. Soon will the spring-tide
be here, and I shall be a young man yet when it comes."
So came they to the place where he had met the three

53

maidens yesterday ; there they also turned from the highway ; The Bride
and as they went down the bent, Gold-mane could not but wngcth
turn his eyes on the beauty of the Bride and the lovely ways
ofher body : but presently he remembered all that had betid,
and turned away again as one who is noting what it behoves
him not to note. And he said to himself: "Where art thou,
Gold-mane? Whose art thou? Yea, even if that had been but
a dream that I have dreamed, yet would that this fair woman
were my sister ! "

So came they to the Yew-wood, and the brethren fell to
work, and the Bride with them, for she was deft with the axe
and strong withal. But at midday they rested on the green
slope without the Yew- wood; and they ate bread and flesh
and onions and apples, and drank red wine of the Dale. And
while they were resting after their meat, the Bride sang to
them, and her song was a lay of time past; and here ye have
somewhat of it:

'Tis over the hill and over the dale

Men ride from the city fast and far,
If they may have a soothfast tale,

True tidings of the host of war.

And first they hap on men-at-arms,

All clad in steel from head to foot:
Now tell true tale of the new-come harms,

And the gathered hosts of the mountain-root.

Fair sirs, from murder-carles we flee,

Whose fashion is as the mountain-trolls';
No man can tell how many they be,

And the voice of their host as the thunder rolls.

They were weary men at the ending of day,
But they spurred nor stayed for longer word.

Now ye, O merchants, whither away?

What do ye there with the helm and the sword?

59

The Bride O wc must fight for life and gear,

singeth For our beasts are spent and our wains are stayed,

And the host of the Mountain-men draws near,
That maketh all the world afraid.

They left the chapmen on the hill,

And through the eve and through the night

They rode to have true tidings still,
And were there on the way when the dawn was bright.

O damsels fair, what do ye then

To loiter thus upon the way, .
And have no fear of the Mountain-men,

The host of the carles that strip and slay?

O riders weary with the road,

Come eat and drink on the grass hereby!

And lay you down in a fair abode

Till the midday sun is broad and high;

Then unto you shall we come aback,

And lead you forth to the Mountain-men,

To note their plenty and their lack,
And have true tidings there and then.

'Tis over the hill and over the dale

They ride from the mountain fast and far;

And now have they learned a soothfast tale,
True tidings of the host of war.

It was summer-tide and the Month of Hay,
And men and maids must fare afield;

But we saw the place where the bow-staves lay,
And the hall was hung with spear and shield.

When the moon was high we drank in the hall,

And they drank to the guests and were kind and blithe,

And they said : Come back when the chestnuts fall,
And the wine-carts wend across the hythe.

60

Come oft and o'er again, they said ; The Bride

Wander your ways ; but we abide is Happy

For all the world in the little stead;
For wise are we, though the world be wide.

Yea, come in arms if ye will, they said;

And despite your host shall we abide
For life or death in the little stead;

For wise are we, though the world be wide.

So she made an end and looked at the fairness of the dale
spreading wide before her, and a robin came nigh from out
of a thornbush and sung his song also, the sweet herald of
coming winter; and the lapwings wheeled about, black and
white, above the meadow by the river, sending forth their
wheedling pipe as they hung above the soft turf.

She felt the brothers near her, and knew their friendliness
from of old, and she was happy; nor had she looked closer
at Gold-mane would she have noted any change in him
belike; for the meat and the good wine, and the fair sunny
time, and the Bride's sweet voice, and the ancient song
softened his heart while it fed the desire therein.

So in a while they arose from their rest and did what was
left them of their work, and so went back to Burgstead
through the fair afternoon; by seeming all three in all con-
tent. But yet Gold-mane, as from time to time he looked
upon the Bride, kept saying to himself: " O if she had been
but my sister! sweet had the kinship been! "

CHAPTER X. NEW TIDINGS IN THE DALE.

IT was three days thereafter that Gold-mane, leading an
ass, went along the high way to fetch home certain fleeces
which were needed for the house from a stead a little west
of Wildlake; but he had gone scant half a mile ere he fell in
with a throng of folk going to Burgstead. They were of the
Shepherds; they had weapons with them, and some were

61

A throng clad in coats offence. They went along making a great noise,
with trouble for they were all talking each to each at the same time, and
in the midst scemec i ver y hot and eager about some matter. When they

saw Gold-mane anigh, they stopped, and the throng opened
as if to let him into their midmost; so he mingled with them,
and they stood in a ring about him and an old man more ill-
favoured than it was the wont of the Dalesmen to be.

For he was long, stooping, gaunt and spindle-shanked,
his hands big and crippled with gout: his cheeks were red
after an old man's fashion, covered with a crimson network
like a pippin; his lips thin andnot well hiding hisfew teeth;
his nose long like a snipe's neb. In short, a shame and a
laughing-stock to the Folk, and a man whom the kindreds
had in small esteem, and that for good reasons.

Face-of-god knew him at once for a notable close-fist and
starve-all fool of the Shepherds; and his name was now be-
come Penny-thumb the Lean, whatever it might once have
been.

So Face-of-god greeted all men, and they him again ; and
he said: "What aileth you, neighbours? Your weapons are
bare, but I see not that they be bloody. What is it, goodman
Penny-thumb?"

Penny-thumb did but groan for all answer; but a stout
carle who stood by with a broad grin on his face answered
and said :

"Face-of-god, evil tidings be abroad; the strong-thieves
of the wood are astir; and some deem that the wood- wights
be helping them."

" Yea, and what is the deed they have done? " said Gold-
mane.

*

Said the carle: "Thou knowest Penny-thumb's abode? "
"Yea, surely," safd Face-of-god; "fair are the water-
meadows about it ; great gain of cheese can be gotten thence. "
"Hast thou been within the house? " said the carle.
"Nay," said Gold-mane.

Then spake Penny- thumb: "Within is scant gear: we
62

gather for others to scatter; we make meat for others* Ransacking
mouths." of a dose-fist

The carle laughed : " Sooth is that," said he, " that there is
little gear therein now; for the strong-thieves have voided
both hall and bower and byre."

"And when was that?" said Face-of-god.

" The night before last night," said the carle, "the door was
smitten on, and when none answered it was broken down."

"Yea," quoth Penny-thumb, "a host entered, and they in
arms."

"No host was within," saidthecarle, "nought butPenny-
thumb and his sister and his sister's son, and three carles that
work for him ; and one of them, Rusty to wit, was the worst
man of the hill-country. These then the host whereof the
goodman telleth bound, but without doing them any scathe ;
and they ransacked the house, and took away much gear; yet
left some."

"Thou liest," said Penny-thumb; "they took little and
left none."

Thereat all men laughed, for this seemed to them good
game, and another man said: "Well, neighbour Penny-
thumb, if it was so little, thou hast done unneighbourly in
giving us such a heap of trouble about it."

And they laughed again, but the first carle said : " True it
is, goodman, that thou wert exceeding eager to raise the hue
and cry after that little when we happed upon thee and thy
housemates bound in your chairs yesterday morning. Well,
Alderman's son, short is the tale to tell : we could not fail to
follow the gear, and the slot led us into the wood, and ill is
the going there for us shepherds, who are used to the bare
downs, save Rusty, who was a good woodsman and lifted
the slot for us; so he outwent us all, and ran out of sight of
us, so presently we came upon him dead-slain, with the man-
slayer's spear in his breast. What then could we do but turn
back again, for now was the wood blind now Rusty was dead,
and we knew not whither to follow the fray; and the man

6 3

A spear not himself was but little loss : so back we turned, and told good-
wrought in man Penny-thumb of all this, for we had left him alone in
the Dale ^jg j^jj l amen ting his gear; so we bided to-day's morn, and

have come out now, with our neighbour and the spear, and
the dead corpse of Rusty. Stand aside, neighbours, and let
the Alderman's son see it."

They did so, and there was the corpse of a thin-faced tall
wiry man, somewhat foxy of aspect, lying on a hand-bier
covered with black cloth.

" Yea, Face-of-god," said the carle, " he is not good to see
now he is dead, yet alive was he worser: but, look you,
though the man was no good man, yet was he of our people,
and the feud is with us; so we would see the Alderman, and
do him to wit of the tidings, that he may call the neighbours
together to seek a blood-wite for Rusty and atonement for
the ransacking. Or what sayest thou?"

"Have ye the spear that ye found in Rusty?" quoth
Gold-mane.

" Yea verily," said the carle. " Hither with it, neighbours ;
give it to the Alderman's son."

So the spear came into his hand, and he looked at it and
said: "This is no spear of the smiths' work of the Dale, as
my father will tell you. We take but little keep of the forg-
ing of spearheads here, so that they be well-tempered and
made so as to ride well on the shaft; but this head, daintily is
it wrought, the blood-trench as clean and trim as though it
were an Earl's sword. See you withal this inlaying of runes
on the steel? It is done with no tin or copper, but with very
silver; and these bands about the shaft be of silver also. It is
a fair weapon, and the owner hath a loss of it greater than his
gain in the slaying of Rusty; and he will have left it in the
wound so that he might be known hereafter, and that he
might be said not to have murdered Rusty but to have slain
him. Or how think ye ? "

They all said that this seemed like to be; but that if the
man who had slain Rusty were one of the ransackers they
might have a blood-wite of him, if they could find him.

6 4

Gold-mane said that so it was, and therewithal he gave the A court held
shepherds good-speed and went on his way.

But they came to Burgstead and found the Alderman,
and in due time was a Court held, and a finding uttered, and
outlawry given forth for the manslaying and the ransacking
against certain men unknown. As tor the spear, it was laid
up in the House of the Face.

But Face-of-god pondered these matters in his mind, for
such ransackings there had been none of in late years; and
he said to himself that his friends of the Mountain must
have other folk, of which the Dalesmen knew nought, whose
gear they could lift, or how could they live in that place.
And he marvelled that they should risk drawing the Dales-
men's wrath upon them; whereas they of the Dale were
strong men not easily daunted, albeit peaceable enough if
not stirred to wrath. For in good sooth he had no doubt
concerning that spear, whose it was and whence it came : for
that very weapon had been leaning against the panel of his
shut-bed the night he slept on the Mountain, and all the
other spears that he saw there were more or less of the same
fashion, and adorned with silver.

Albeit all that he knew, and all that he thought of, he kept
in his own heart and said nothing of it.

So wore the autumn into early winter; and the Westland
merchants came in due time, and departed without Face-of-

fod, though his father made him that offer one last time.
le went to and fro about his work in the Dale, and seemed
to most men's eyes nought changed from what he had been.
But the Bride noted that he saw her less often than his wont
was, and abode with her a lesser space when he met her; and
she could not think what this might mean; nor had she heart
to ask him thereof, though she was sorry and grieved, but
rather withdrew her company from him somewhat; and
when she perceived that he noted it not, and made no ques-
tion of it, then was she the sorrier.

But the first winter-snow came on with a great storm of
wind from the north-east, so that no man stirred abroad
xv.p 65

The cowers who was not compelled thereto, and those who went abroad
cowed risked life and limb thereby. Next morning all was calm

again, and the snow was deep, but it did not endure long,
for the wind shifted to the south-west and the thaw came,
and three days after, when folk could fare easily again up
and down the Dale, came tidings to Burgstead and the
Alderman from the Lower Dale, how a house called Green-
tofts had been ransacked there, and none knew by whom.
Now the goodman of Greentofts was little loved of the
neighbours : he was grasping and overbearing, and had often
cowed others out of their due: he was very cross-grained,
* both at home and abroad: his wife had fled from his hand,
neither did his sons find it good to abide with him: there-
withal he was wealthy of goods, a strong man and a deft
man-at-arms. When his sons and his wife departed from
him, and none other of the Dalesmen cared to abide with
him, he went down into the Plain, and got thence men to be
with him for hire, men who were not well seen to in their
own land. These to the number of twelve abode with him,
and did his bidding whenso it pleased them. Two more had
he had who had been slain by good men of the Dale for their
masterful ways; and no blood-wite had been paid for them,
because of their ill-doings, though they had not been made
outlaws. This man of Greentofts was called Harts-bane after
his father, who was a great hunter.

Now the full tidings of the ransacking were these: The
storm began two hours before sunset, and an hour thereafter,
when it was quite dark, for without none could see because
the wind was at its height and the drift of the snow was hard
and full, the hall-door flew open; and at first men thought it
had been the wind, until they saw in the dimness (for all
lights but the fire on the hearth had been quenched) certain
things tumbling in which at first they deemed were wolves;
but when they took swords and staves against them, lo they
were met by swords and axes, and they saw that the seem-
ing wolves were men with wolf-skins drawn over them. So
the new-comers cowed them that they threw down their
66

weapons, and were bound in their places ; but when they were Yule-tide in
bound, and had had time to note who the ransackers were, Burgstead
they saw that there were but six of them all told, who had
cowed and bound Harts-bane and his twelve masterful
men ; and this they deemed a great shaming to them, as
might well be.

So then the stead was ransacked, and those wolves took
away what they would, and went their ways through the
fierce storm, and none could tell whether they had lived or
died in it; but at least neither the men nor their prey were
seen again; nor did they leave any slot, for next morning the
snow lay deep over everything.

No doubt had Gold-mane but that these ransackers were
his friends of the Mountain; but he held his peace, abiding
till the winter should be over.

CHAPTER XI. MEN MAKE OATH AT BURG-
STEAD ON THE HOLY BOAR.

A WEEK after the ransacking at Greentofts the snow
and the winter came on in earnest, and all the Dale lay
Lin snow, and men went on skids when they fared up
and down the Dale or on the Mountain.

All was now tidingless till Yule over, and in Burgstead was
there feasting and joyance enough; and especially at the
House of the Face was high-tide holden, and the Alderman
and his sons and Stone-face and all the kindred and all their
men sat in glorious attire within the hall; and many others
were there of the best of the kindreds of Burgstead who had
been bidden.

Face-of-god sat between his father and Stone-face; and he
looked up and down the tables and the hall and saw not the
Bride, and his heart misgave him because she was not there,
and he wondered what had befallen and if she were sick of
sorrow.

But Iron-face beheld him how he gazed about, and he
laughed ; for he was exceeding merry that nigh t and fared as a
F2 67

High-tide in young man. Then he said to his son : " Whom seekest thou,
the Hall of son ? is there someone lacking? "

the Face Face-of-god reddened as one who lies unused to it, and

said : "Yea, kinsman, so it is that I was seeking the Bride my
kinswoman."

" Nay," said Iron-face, "call her not kinswoman : therein
is ill-luck, lest it seem that thou art to wed one too nigh thine
own blood. Call her the Bride only: to thee and to me the
name is good. Well, son, desirest thou sorely to see her? "

"Yea, yea, surely," said Face-of-god; but his eyes went
all about the hall still, as though his mind strayed from the
place and that home of his.

Said Iron-face: "Have patience, son, thou shalt see her
anon, and that in such guise as shall please thee."

Therewithal came the maidens with the ewers of wine, and
they filled all horns and beakers, and then stood by the end-
long tables on either side laughing and talking with the carles
and the older women ; and the hall was a fair sight to see, for
the many candles burned bright and the fire on the hearth
flared up, and those maids were clad in fair raiment, and there
was none of them but was comely, and some were fair, and
some very fair : the walls also were hu ng wi th goodly pictured
cloths, and the image of the God of the Face looked down
smiling terribly from the gable-end above the high-seat.

Thus as they sat they heard the sound of a horn winded
close outside the hall door, and the door was smitten on. Then
rose Iron-face smiling merrily, and cried out :

" Enter ye, whether ye be friends or foes: for it ye be foe-
men, yet shall ye keep the holy peace of Yule, unless ye be
the foes of all kindreds and nations, and then shall we slay
you."

Thereat some who knew what was toward laughed; but
Gold-mane, who had been away from Burgstead some days
past, marvelled and knit his brows, and let his right hand
fall on his sword-hilt. For this folk, who were of merry ways,
were wont to deal diversely with the Yule-tide customs in the
manner of shows; and he knew not that this was one of them.
68

Now was the outer door thrown open, and there entered A fair woman
seven men, whereof two were all-armed in bright war-gear, » n the Hall
and two bore slug-horns, and two bore up somewhat on a
dish covered over with a piece of rich cloth, and the seventh
stood before them all wrapped up in a dark fur mantle.

Thus they stood a moment; and when he saw their num-
ber, back to Gold-mane's heart came the thought of those folk
on the Mountain: for indeed he was somewhat out of himself
for doubt and longing, else would he have deemed that all this
was but a Yule-tide play.

Now the men with the slug-horns set them to their mouths
and blew a long blast; while the first of the new-comers set
hand to the clasps of the fur cloak and let it fall to the ground,
and lo! a woman exceeding beauteous, clad in glistering rai-
ment of gold and fine web; her hair wreathed with bay, and
in her hand a naked sword with goodly-wrought golden hilt
and polished blue-gleaming blade.

Face-of-god started up in his seat, and stared like a man
new-wakened from a strange dream : because for one moment
he deemed verily that it was the Woman of the Mountain
arrayed as he had last seen her, and he cried aloud, "The
Friend, the Friend! "

His father brake out into loud laughter thereat, andclapped
his son on the shoulder and said: " lea, yea, lad, thou mayst
well say the Friend; for this is thine old playmate whom thou
hast been looking round the hall for, arrayed this eve in such
fashion as is meet for her goodliness and her worthiness. Yea,
this is the Friend indeed!"

Then waxed Face-of-god as red as blood for shame, and he
sat him down in his place again : for now he wotted what was
toward, and saw that this fair woman was the Bride.

But Stone-face from the other side looked keenly on him.

Then blew the horns again, and the Bride stepped daintily
up the hall, and the sweet odour of her raiment went from her
about the fire-warmed dwelling, and her beauty moved all
hearts with love. So stood she at the high-table; and those
two who bore the burden set it down thereon and drew off

6 9

The Holy the covering, and lo ! there was the Holy Boar of Yule on
Boar on the which men were wont to make oath of deeds that they would
uWc do in the coming year, according to the custom of their fore-

fathers. Then the Bride laid the goodly sword beside the dish,
and then went round the table and sat down betwixt Face-of-
god and Stone-face, and turned kindly to Gold-mane, and
was glad; for now was his fair face as its wont was to be. He
in turn smiled upon her, for she was fair and kind and his
fellow for many a day.

Now the men-at-arms stood each side the Boar, and out
from them on each side stood the two hornsmen : then these
blew up again, whereon the Alderman stood up and cried:

" Ye sons of the brave who have any deed that ye may be
desirous of doing, come up, come lay your hand on the sword,
and the point ofthe sword to the Holy Beast, and swear the
oath that lieth on your hearts/'

Therewith he sat down, and there strode a man up the hall,
strong-built and sturdy, but short of stature; black-haired,
red-bearded, and ruddy-faced: and he stood on the dais, and
took up the sword and laid its point on the Boar, and said:

" I am Bristler, son of Brightling,a man of the Shepherds.
Here by the Holy Boar I swear to follow up the ransackers
of Penny-thumb and the slayers of Rusty. And I take this
feud upon me, although they be no good men, because I am
ofthe kin and it falleth to me, since others forbear; and when
the Court was hallowed hereon I was away out of the Dale
and the Downs. So help me the Warrior, and the God ofthe
Earth."

Then the Alderman nodded his head to him kindly, and
reached him out a cup of wine, and as he drank there went
up a rumour of praise from the hall; and men said that his
oath was manly and that he was like to keep it; for he was a
good man-at-arms and a stout heart.

Then came up three men ofthe Shepherds and two ofthe
Dale and swore to help Bristler in his feud, and men thought
it well sworn.

After that came a braggart, a man very gay of his raiment,
70

1

and swore with many words that if he lived the year through Oaths are
he would be a captain over the men of the Plain, and would swon * upon
come back again with many gifts for his friends in the Dale. ^ Boar
This men deemed foolishly sworn, for they knew the man ;
so they jeered at him and laughed as he went back to his place
ashamed.

Then swore three others oaths not hard to be kept, and
men laughed and were merry.

At last uprose the Alderman, and said: (< Kinsmen, and
good fellows, good days and peaceable are in the Dale as now ;
and of such days little is the story, and little it availeth to swear
a deed of derring-do: yet three things I swear by this Beast;
and first to gainsay no man's asking if I may perform it; and
next to set right above law and mercy above custom ; and
lastly, if the days change and war cometh to us or we go to
meet it, I will benobackwarderintheonset than threefathoms
behind the foremost. So help me the Warrior, and the God
of the Face and the Holy Earth ! "

Therewith he sat down, and all men shouted forjoyof him,
and said that it was most like that he would keep his oath.

Last of all uprose Face-of-god and took up the sword and
looked at it; and so bright was the blade that he saw in it the
image of the golden braveries which the Bride bore, and even
some broken image of her face. Then he handled the hilt and
laid the point on the Boar, and cried:

"Hereby I swear to wed the fairest woman of the Earth
before the year is worn to an end ; and that whether the Dales-
men gainsay me or the men beyond the Dale. So help me the
Warrior, and the God of the Face and the Holy Earth ! "

Therewith he sat down ; and once more men shouted for
the love of him and of the Bride, and they said he had sworn
well and like a chieftain.

But the Bride noted him that neither were his eyes nor his
voice like to their wont as he swore, for she knew him well;
and thereat was she ill at ease, for now whatever was new in
him was to her a threat of evil to come.

Stone-face also noted him, and he knew the young man

7i

Stone-face
fbrbodeth.

better than all others save the Bride, and he saw withal that
she was ill-pleased, and he said to himself: " I will speak to
my fosterling to-morrow if 1 may find him alone."

So came the swearing to an end, and they fell to on their
meat and feasted on the Boar of Atonement after they had
duly given the Gods their due share, and the wine went about
the hall and men were merry till they drank the parting cup
and fared to rest in the shut-beds, and whereso else they
might in the Hall and the House, for there were many men
there.

A winter
morning

CHAPTER XII. STONE-FACE TELLETH CON-
CERNING THE WOOD-WIGHTS.

EARLY on the morrow Gold-mane arose and clad him-
self and went out-a-doors and over the trodden snow
on to the bridge over the Weltering Water, and there
betook himself into one of the coins of safety built over the
up-stream piles; there he leaned against the wall and turned
his face to the Thorp, and fell to pondering on his case. And
first he thought about his oath, and how that he had sworn
to wed the Mountain Woman, although his kindred and
her kindred should gainsay him, yea and herself also. Great
seemed that oath to him, yet at that moment he wished he
had made it greater, and made all the kindred, yea and the
Bride herself, sure of the meaning of the words of it: and he
deemed himself a dastard that he had not done so. Then he
looked round him and beheld the winter, and he fell into
mere longing that the spring were come and the token from
the Mountain. Things seemed too hard for him to deal with,
and he between a mighty folk and two wayward women ; and
he went nigh to wish that he had taken his father's offer and
gone down to the Cities; and even had he met his bane: well
were that! And, as young folk will, he set to work making a
picture of his deeds there, had he been there.He showed him-
self the stricken fight in the plain, and the press, and the
struggle, and the breaking of the serried band, and himself
amidst the ring of foemen doing most valiantly, and falling
72

there at last, his shield o'er-heavy with the weight of foemen's Stone-face
spears for a man to uphold it. Then the victory of his folk and cometh
the lamentation and praise over the slain man of the Moun-
tain Dales, and the burial of the valiant warrior, the praising
weeping folk meeting him at the City-gate, laid stark and
cold in his arms on the gold-hung garlanded bier.

There ended his dream, and he laughed aloud and said :
"lama fool! All this were good and sweet if I should see it
myself; and forsooth that is how I am thinking of it, as if I
still alive should see myself dead and famous !"

Then he turned a little and looked at the houses of the
Thorp lying dark about the snowy ways under the starlit
heavens of the winter morning: dark they were indeed and
grey, save where here and there the half-burned Yule-fire
reddened the windows of a hall, or where, as in one place,
the candle of some early waker shone white in a chamber win-
dow. There was scarce a man astir, he deemed, and no sound
reached him save the crowing of the cocks muffled by their
houses, and a faint sound of beasts in the byres.

Thus he stood a while, his thoughts wandering now, till
presently he heard footsteps coming his way down the street
and turned toward them,and lo it was the old man Stone-face.
He had seen Gold-mane go out, and had risen and followed
him that he might talk with him apart. Gold-mane greeted
him kindly, though, sooth to say, he was but half content to
see him ; since he doubted, what was verily the case, that his
foster-father would give him many words, counselling him
to refrain from going to the wood, and this was loathsome to
him ; but he spake and said :

" Meseems, father, that the eastern sky is brightening to-
ward dawn."

" Yea," quoth Stone-face.

" It will be light in an hour," said Face-of-god.

" Even so," said Stone-face.

"And a fair day for the morrow of Yule," said the swain.

<c Yea," said Stone-face, "and what wilt thou do with the
fair day? Wilt thou to the wood?"

" Maybe, father," said Gold-mane; " Hall-face and some

73

Tales of the of the swains are talking of elks up the fells which may be
wood trapped in the drifts, and if they go a-hunting them, I may go

in their company."

" Ah, son," quoth Stone-face, " thou wilt look to see other
kind of beast than elks. Things may ye fall in with there who
may not be impounded in the snow like to elks, but can go
light-foot on the top of the soft drift from one place to an-
other."

Said Gold-mane: " Father, fear me not; I shall either re-
frain me from the wood, or if I go, I shall go to hunt the wood-
deer with other hunters. But since thou hast come to me, tell
me more about the wood, for thy tales thereof are fair."

" Yea," said Stone-face, " fair tales of foul things, as oft it
befalleth in the world. Hearken now! if thou deemest that
what thou seekest shall come readier to thine hand because
of the winter and the snow, thou errest. For the wights that
waylay the bodies and souls of the mighty in the Wild-wood
heed such matters nothing; yea and at Yule-tide are they
most abroad, and most armed for the fray. Even such an one
have I seen time agone, when the snow was deep and the
wind was rough; and it was in the likeness of a woman clad
in such raiment as the Bride bore last night, and she trod the
snow light-foot in thin raiment where it would scarce bear
the skids of a deft snow-runner. Even so she stood before
me; the icy wind blew her raiment round about her, and
drifted the hair from her garlanded head toward me, and she
as fair and fresh as in the midsummer days. Up the fell she
fared, sweetest of all things to look on, and beckoned on me to
follow; on me, the Warrior, the Stout-heart; and I followed,
and between us grief was born; but I it was that fostered that
child and not she. Always when she would be, was she merry
and lovely ; and even so is she now, for she is of those that be
long-lived. And I wot that thou hast seen even such an one! "

"Tell me more of thy tales, foster-father," said Gold-
mane, " and fear not for me! "

"Ah, son," he said, "mayst thou have no such tales to tell
to those that shall be young when thou art old. Yet hearken!

74

We sat in the hall together and there was no third ; and me- The bcguil-
thought that the birds sang and the flowers bloomed, and *?« of a war ~
sweet was their savour, though it was mid-winter. A rose- nor
wreath was on her head; grapes were on the board, and fair
un wrinkled summer apples on the day that we feasted to-
gether. When was the feast ? sayst thou. Long ago. What was
the hall, thou say est, wherein ye feasted ? I know not if it were
on the earth or under it, or if we rode the clouds that even. But
on the morrow what was there but the stark wood and the drift
of the snow, and the iron wind howling through the branches,
and a lonely man, a wanderer rising from the ground. A wan-
derer through the wood and up the fell, and up the high
mountain, and up and up to the edges of the ice-river and the
green caves of the ice-hills. A wanderer in spring, in summer,
autumn and winter, with an empty heart and a burning never-
satisfied desire; who hath seen in the uncouth places many
an evil unmanly shape, many a foul hag and changing ugly
semblance; who hath suffered hunger and thirst and wound-
ing and fever, and hath seen many things, but hath never
again seen that fair woman, or that lovely feast-hall.

"All praise and honour to the House of the Face, and the
bounteous valiant men thereof! and the like praise and
honour to the fair women whom they wed of the valiant and
goodly House of the Steer I"

"Even so say I," quoth Gold-mane calmly; "but now
wend we aback to the House, for it is morning indeed, and
folk will be stirring there."

So they turned from the bridge together; and Stone-face
was kind and fatherly, and was telling his foster-son many
wise things concerning the life of a chieftain, and the giving-
out of dooms and the gathering for battle; to all which talk
Face-of-god seemed to hearken gladly,but indeed hearkened
not at all; for verily his eyes were beholding that snowy
waste, and the fair woman upon it ; even such an one as Stone-
face had told of.

IS

CHAPTER XIII. THEY FARE TO THE HUNT-
ING OF THE ELK.

The world ^^\T THEN they came into the Hall, the hearth-fire had
awake \\/ keen quickened, and the sleepers on the floor had

VV been wakened, and all folk were astir. So the old
man sat down by the hearth while Gold-mane busied him-
self in fetching wood and water, and in sweeping out the
Hall, and other such works of the early morning. In a little
while Hall-face and the other young men and warriors were
afoot duly clad, and the Alderman came from his chamber
and greeted all men kindly. Soon meat was set upon the
boards, and men broke their fast ; and day dawned while they
were about it, and ere it was all done the sun rose clear and
golden, so that all men knew that the day would be fair, for
the frost seemed hard and enduring.

Then the eager young men and the hunters, and those
who knew the mountain best drew together about the hearth,
and fell to talking of the hunting of the elk; and there were
three there who knew both the woods and also the fells right
up to the ice-rivers better than any other ; and these said that
they who were fain of the hunting of the elk would have no
likelier time than that day for a year to come. Short was the
rede betwixt them, for they said they would go to the work
at once and make the most of the short winter daylight. So
they went each to his place, and some outside that House to
their fathers' houses to fetch each man his gear. Face-of-god
for his part went to his shut-bed, and stood by his chest, and
opened it, and drew out of it a fine hauberk of ring-mail
which his father had made for him : for though Face-of-god
was a deft wright, he was not by a long way so deft as his fa-
ther, who was the deftest of all men of that time and country ;
so that the alien merchants would give him what he would for
his hauberks and helms, whenso he would chaffer with them,
which was but seldom. So Face-of-god did on this hauberk
over his kirtle, and over it he cast his foul-weather weed, so
that none might see it: he girt a strong war-sword to his side,

76

cast his quiver over his shoulder, and took his bow in his The hunt is
hand, although he had little lust to shoot elks that day, even up
as Stone-face had said; therewithal he took his skids, and
went forth of the hall to the gate of the Burg; whereto
gathered the whole company of twenty-three, and Gold-
mane the twenty-fourth. And each man there had his skids
and his bow and quiver, and whatso other weapon, as short-
sword, or wood-knife, or axe, seemed good to him.

So they went out-a-gates, and clomb the stairway in the
cliff which led to the ancient watch-tower: for it was on the
lower slopes of the fells which lay near to the Weltering
Water that they looked to find the elks, and this was the
nighest road thereto. When they had gotten to the top they
lost no time, but went their ways nearly due east, making
way easily where there were but scattered trees close to the
lip of the sheer cliffs.

They went merrily on their skids over the close-lying
snow, and were soon up on the great shoulders of the fells that
went up from the bank of the Weltering Water : at noon they
came into a little dale wherein werea few trees, and there they
abided to eat their meat, and were very merry, making for
themselves tables and benches of the drifted snow, and piling
it up to windward as a defence against the wind, which had
now arisen, little but bitter from the south-east; so that
some, and they the wisest, began to look for foul weather:
wherefore they tarried the shorter while in the said dale or
hollow.

But they were scarcely on their way again before the afore-
said south-east wind began to grow bigger, and at last blew
a gale, and brought up with it a drift of fine snow, through
which they yet made their way, but slowly, till the drift grew
so thick that they could not see each other five paces apart.
Then perforce they made stay, and gathered together
under a bent which by good luck they happened upon, where
they were sheltered from the worst of the drift. There they
abode, till in less than an hour's space the drift abated and
the wind fell, and in a little while after it was quite clear, with

77

Face-of-god the sun shining brightly and the young waxing moon white
missing and high up in the heavens; and the frost was harder than
ever.

This seemed good to them; but now that they could see
each other's faces they fell to telling over their company, and
there was none missing save Face-of-god. They were some-
what dismayed thereat, but knew not what to do, and they
deemed he might not be far off, either a little behind or a
little ahead; and Hall-face said:

"There is no need to make this to-do about my brother;
he can take good care of himself; neither does a warrior of
the Face die because of a little cold and frost and snow-drift.
Withal Gold-mane is a wilful man, and of late days hath been
wilful beyond his wont; let us now find the elks."

So they went on their ways hoping to fell in with him
again. No long story need be made of their hunting, for not
very far from where they had taken shelter they came upon
the elks, many of them, impounded in the drifts, pretty much
where the dett hunters looked to find them. There then was
battle between the elks and the men, till the beasts were all
slain and only one man hurt: then they made them sleighs
from wood which they found in the hollows thereby, and
they laid the carcasses thereon, and so turned their feces
homeward, dragging their prey with them. But they met not
Face-of-god either there or on the way home; and Hall-fece
said: " Maybe Gold-mane will lie on the fell to-night; and I
would I were with him ; for adventures oft befall such folk
when they abide in the wilds."

Now it was late at night by then they reached Burgstead,
so laden as they were with the dead beasts ; but they heeded
the night little, for the moon was well-nigh as bright as day
for them. But when they came to the gate of the Thorp,
there were assembled the goodmen and swains to meet them
with torches and wine in their honour. There also was Gold-
mane come back before them, yea for these two hours; and
he stood clad in his holiday raiment and smiled on them.

Then was there some jeering at him that he was come back

78

empty-handed from the hunting, and that he was notable to Face-of-god
abide the wind and the drift; but he laughed thereat, for all first home
this was but game and play, since men knew him for a keen
hunter and a stout woodsman ; and they had deemed it a
heavy loss of him if he had been cast away, as some feared he
had been : and his brother Hall-face embraced him and kissed
him, and said to him: "Now the next time that thou farest
to the wood will 1 be with thee foot to foot, and never leave
thee, and then meseemeth I shall wot of the tale that hath
befallen thee, and belike it shall be no sorry one."

Face-of-god laughed and answered but little, and they
all betook them to the House of the Face and held high feast
therein, foraslateas the night was, in honour of this Hunting
of the Elk,

No man cared to question Face-of-god closely as to how
or where he had strayed from the hunt; for he had told his
own tale at once as soon as he came home, to wit, that his
right-foot skid-strap had broken, and even while he stopped
to mend it came on that drift and weather; and that he could
not move from that place without losing his way, and that
when it had cleared he knew not whither they had gone be-
cause the snow had covered their slot. So he deemed it not
unlike that they had gone back, and that he might come up
with one or two on the way, and that in any case he wotted
well that they could look after themselves ; so he turned back,
not going very swiftly. All this seemed like enough, and a
little matter except to jest about, so no man made any question
concerning it: only old Stone-face said to himself: "Now
were I fain to have a true talc out of him, but it is little likely
that anything shall come of my much questioning; and it is
ill forcing a young man to tell lies."

So he held his peace, and the feast went on merrily and
blithely.

79

CHAPTER XIV. CONCERNING FACE-OF-GOD
AND THE MOUNTAIN.

The true T"^\ UT it must be told of Gold-mane that what had befal-
tale of Face- I— ^ len him was in this wise. His skid-strap brake in good
of-god JL^/ sooth, and he stayed to mend it ; but when he had done

what was needful, he looked up and saw no man nigh, what
for the drift, and that they had gone on somewhat; so he rose
to his feet, and without more delay, instead of keeping on to-
ward the elk-ground and the way his face had been set, he
turned himself north-and-by-east, and went his ways swiftly
towards that airt, because he deemed that it might lead him
to the Mountain-hall where he had guested. He abode not
for the storm to clear, but swept off through the thick of it;
and indeed the wind was somewhat at his back, so that he
went the swiftlier. But when the drift was gotten to its very
worst, he sheltered himself for a little in a hollow behind a
thorn-bush he stumbled upon. As soon as it began to abate
he went on again, and at last when it was quite clear, and the
sun shone out, he found himself on a long slope of the fells
covered deep with smooth white snow, and at the higher end
a great crag rising bare fifty feet above the snow, and more
rocks, but none so great, and broken ground as he judged
(the snow being deep) about it on the hither side ; and on the
further, three great pine-trees all bent down and mingled to-
gether by their load of snow.

Thitherward he made, as a man might, seeing nothing else
to note before him ; but he had not made many strides when
forth from behind the crag by the pine-trees came a man; and
at first Face-of-god thought it might be one of his hunting-
fellows gone astray, and he hailed him in a loud voice, but as
he looked he saw the sun flash back from a bright helm on the
new-comer's head; albeit he kept on his way till there was
but a space of two hundred yards between them; when lol
the helm-bearer notched a shaft to his bent bow and loosed
at Face-of-god, and the arrow came whistling and passed six
80

inches by his right ear. Then Face-of-god stopped perplexed A deft archer
with his case; tor he was on the deep snow in his skids, with °» themoun-
his bow unbent, and he knew not how to bend it speedily. Uln
He was loth to turn his back and flee, and indeed he scarce
deemed that it would help him. Meanwhile of his tarrying
the archer loosed again at him, and this time the shaft flew
close to his left ear. Then Face-of-god thought to cast him-
self down into the snow, but he was ashamed; till there came
a third shaft which flew over his head amidmost and close to
it. " Good shooting on the Mountain! " muttered he; "the
next shaft will be amidst my breast, and who knows whether
the Alderman's handiwork will keep it out."

So he cried aloud: "Thou shootest well, brother; but art
thou a foe? If thou art, I have a sword by my side, and so hast
thou; come hither to me, and let us fight it out friendly if we
must needs fight."

A laugh came down the wind to him clear but somewhat
shrill, and the archer came swiftly towards him on his skids
with no weapon in his hand save his bow; so that Face-of-god
did not draw his sword, but stood wondering.

As they drew nearer he beheld the face ofthe new-comer,
and deemed that he had seen it before; and soon, for all that
it was hooded close by the ill-weather raiment, he perceived
it to be the face of Bow-may, ruddy and smiling.

She laughed out loud again, as she stopped herself within
three feet of him, and said:

" Yea, friend Yellow-hair, we heard of the elks and looked
to see thee hereabouts, and I knew thee at once when I came
out from behind the crag and saw thee stand bewildered."

Said Gold-mane: " Hail to thee, Bow-may! and glad am
I to see thee. But thou liest in saying that thou knewest me ;
else why didst thou shoot those three shafts at me? Surely
thou art not so quick as that with all thy friends : these be
sharp greetings of you Mountain-folk."

" Thou lad with the sweet mouth," she said, " I like to see
thee and hear thee talk, but now must I hasten thy departure ;
xv.c 8 1

Mountain-
Hall

One so stand we here no longer. Let us get down into the wood

from the where we can do off our skids and sit down, and then will I

tell thee the tidings. Come on! "

And she caught his hand in hers, and they went speedily
down the slopes toward the great oak-wood, the wind whist-
ling past their ears.

" Whither are we going? " said he.

Said she: "I am to show thee the way back home, which
thou wilt not know surely amidst this snow. Come, no words !
thou shalt not have my tale from me till we are in the wood :
so the sooner we are there the sooner shalt thou be pleased."

So Face-of-god held his peace, and they went on swiftly
side by side. But it was not Bow-may's wont to be silent for
long, so presently she said:

"Thou art good to do as I bid thee; but see thou, sweet
playmate, for all thou art a chieftain's son, thou wert but
feather-brained to ask me why I shot at thee. I shoot at thee!
that were a fine tale to tell her this even! Or dost thou think
that I could shoot at a big man on the snow at two hundred
paces and miss him three times? Unless I aimed to miss."

"Yea, Bow-may," said he, "art thou so deft a Bow-may?
Thou shalt be in my company whenso I fare to battle."

" Indeed," she said, " therein thou sayest but the bare
truth : nowhere else shall I be, and thou shalt find my bow no
worse than a good shield."

He laughed somewhat lightly; but she looked on him so-
berly and said: "Laugh in that fashion on the day of battle,
and we shall be well content with thee! "

So on they sped very swiftly, for their way was mostly down
hill, so that they were soon amongst the outskirting trees of
the wood, and presently after reached the edge of the thicket,
beyond which the ground was but thinly covered with snow.
They sit There they took off their skids, and went into the thick

down in^ wood and sat down under a hornbeam tree; and ere Gold-
mane could open his mouth to speak Bow-may began and
said:

" Well it was that I fell in with thee, Dalesman, else had
82

the wood

there been murders of men to tell of; but ever she ordereth A message
all things wisely, though unwisely hast thou done to seek to from the
her. Hearken! dost thou think that thou hast done well that Mountain
thou hast me here with my tale? Well, hadst thou busied thy-
self with the slaying of elks, or with sitting quietly at home,
yet shouldest thou have heard my tale, and thou shouldest
have seen me in Burgstead in a day or two to tell thee con-
cerning the flitting of the token. And ill it is that I have
missed it, for fain had I been to behold the House of the Face,
and to have seen thee sitting there in thy dignity amidst the
kindred of chieftains.'*

And she sighed therewith. But he said: "Hold up thine
heart, Bow-may! On the word of a true man that shall befall
thee one day. But come, playmate, give me thy tale! "

"Yea," she said, c< I must now tefl thee in the wild-wood
what else I had told thee in the Hall. Hearken closely, for this
is the message :

"Seek not to me again till thou hast the token; else assuredly wilt
thou be slain, and I shall be sorry for many a day. Thereof as now
I may not tell thee more. Now as to the token: When March is
worn two weeks fail not to go to and fro on the tlace of the Maiden
Ward for an hour before sunrise every day till thou hear tidings"

"Now," quoth Bow-may, "hast thou hearkened and
understood?"

"Yea," said he.

She said: "Then tell me the words of my message con-
cerning the token." And he did so word for word. Then she
said:

" It is well, there is no more to say. Now must I lead thee
till thou knowest the wood; and then mayst thou get on to
the smooth snow again, and so home merrily. Yet, thou grey-
eyed fellow, I will have my pay of thee before I do that last
work."

Therewith she turned about to him and took his head

between her hands, and kissed him well favouredly both

cheeks and mouth; and she laughed, albeit the tears stood

in her eyes as she said: "Now smelleth the wood sweeter,

02 83

Face-of-god and summer will come back again. And even thus will I do
pondereth once more when we stand side by side in battle array."

He smiled kindly on her and nodded as they both rose up
from the earth : she had taken off her foul-weather gloves
while they spake, and he kissed her hand, which was shapely
of fashion albeit somewhat brown, and hard of palm, and he
said in friendly wise:

"Thou art a merry faring-fellow, Bow-may, and belike
shalt be withal a true fighting-fellow. Come noft, thou shalt
be my sisterand I thy brother,in despite of those three shafts
across the snow."

He laughed therewith ; she laughed not, but seemed glad,
and said soberly:

" Yea, I may well be thy sister; for belike I also am of the
people of the Gods, who have come into these Dales by many
far ways. I am of the House of the Ragged Sword of the
Kindred of the Wolf. Come, brother, let us toward Wild-
lake's Way."

Therewith she went before him and led through the
thicket as by an assured and wonted path, and he followed
hard at heel; but his thought went from her for a while; for
those words of brother and sister that he had spoken called
to his mind the Bride, and their kindness of little children,
and the days when they seemed to have nought to do but to
make the sun brighter, and the flowers fairer, and the grass
greener, and the birds happier each for the other ; and a hard
and evil thing it seemed to him that now he should be mak-
ing all these things nought and dreary to her, now when he
had become a man and deeds lay before him. Yet again was
he solaced by what Bow-may had said concerning battle to
come ; for he deemed that she must have had this from the
Friend's foreseeing; and he longed sore for deeds to do,
wherein all these things might be cleared up and washen
clean as it were.

So passed they through the wood a long way, and it was
getting dark therein, and Gold-mane said :

" Hold now, Bow-may, for I am at home here."

8 4

She looked around and said : " Yea, so it is : I was thinking Tidings from
of many things. Farewell and live merrily till March comes Carlstcad
and the token! "

Therewith she turned and went her ways and was soon
out of sight, and he went lightly through the wood, and then
on skids over the hard snow along the Dale's edge till he
was come to the watch-tower, when the moon was bright in
heaven.

Thus was he at Burgstead and the House of the Face be-
times, and before the hunters were gotten back.

CHAPTER XV. MURDER AMONGST THE FOLK
OF THE WOODLANDERS.

SO wore away midwinter tidingless. Stone-face spake no
more to Face-of-god about the wood and its wights,
when he saw that the young man had come back hale
and merry, and seemed not to crave over-much to go back
thither. As for the Bride, she was sad, and more than mis-
doubted all; but dauntless as she was in matters that try
men's hardihood, she yet lacked heart to ask of Face-of-god
what had befallen him since the autumn-tide, or where he
was with her. So she put a force upon herself not to look sad
or craving when she was in his company, as full oft she was;
for he rather sought her than shunned her. For when he saw
her thus, he deemed things were changing with her as they
had changed with him, and he bethought him of what he had
spoken to Bow-may, and deemed that even so he might
speak with the Bride when the ti me came, and that she would
not be grieved beyond measure, and all would be well.

Now came on the thaw, and the snow went, and the grass
grew all up and down the Dale, and all waters were big. And
about this time arose rumours of strange men in the wood,
uncouth, vile, and murderous, and many of the feebler sort
were made timorous thereby.

But a little before March was born came new tidings from
the Woodlanders ; to wit : There came on a time to the house

85

Foul deeds in of a woodland carle, a worthy goodman well renowned of all,
a guest-hall two wayfarers in the first watch of the night; and these men

said that they were wending down to the Plain from a far-
away dale, Rose-dale to wit, which all men had heard of, and
that they had strayed from the way and were exceeding weary,
and they craved a meal's meat and lodging for the night.

This the goodman might nowise gainsay, and he saw no
harm in it, wherefore he bade them abide and be merry.

These men, said they who told the tidings, were out-
landers, and no man had seen any like them before: they
were armed, and bore short bows made of horn, and round
targets, and coats-of-fence done over with horn scales; they
had crooked swords girt to their sides, and axes of steel
forged all in one piece, right good weapons. They were clad
in scarlet and had much silver on their raiment and about
their weapons, and great rings of the same on their arms;
and all this silver seemed brand-new.

Now the Woodland Carle gave them of such things as he
had, and was kind and blithe to them : there were in his
house besides himself five men of his sons and kindred, and
his wife and three daughters and two other maids. So they
feasted after the Woodlanders' fashion, and went to bed a
little before midnight. Two hours after, the carle awoke and
heard a little stir, and he looked and saw the guests on their
feet amidst the hall clad in all their war-gear; and they had
betwixt them his two youngest daughters, maids of fifteen
and twelve winters, and had bound their hands and done
clouts over their mouths, so that they might not cry out;
and they were just at point to carry them off. Thereat the
goodman, naked as he was, caught up his sword and made
at these murder-carles, and or ever they were ware of him
he had hewn down one and turned to face the other, who
smote at him with his steel axe and gave him a great wound
on the shoulder, and therewithal fled out at the open door
and forth into the wood.

The Woodlander made no stay to raise the cry (there was
no need, for the hall was astir now from end to end, and men
86

getting to their weapons), but ran out after the felon even as Two evil
he was; and, in spite of his grievous hurt, overran him no m«* lying
long way from the house before he had gotten into the dead
thicket. But the man was nimble and strong, and the good-
man unsteady from his wound, and by then the others of the
household came up with the hue and cry he had gotten two
more sore wounds and was just making an end of throttling
the felon with his bare hands. So befell into their arms faint-
ing from weakness, and for all they could do he died in two
hours' time from that axe-wound in his shoulder, and an-
other on the side of the head, and a knife-thrust in his
side; and he was a man of sixty winters.

But the stranger he had slain outright; and the one whom
he had smitten in the hall died before the dawn, thrusting all
help aside, and making no sound of speech.

When these tidings came to Burgstead they seemed great
to all men, and to Gold-mane more than all. So he and many
others took their weapons and fared up to Wildlake's Way,
and so came to the Woodland Carles. But the Woodlanders
had borne out the carcasses of those felons and laid them on
the green before Wood-grey's door (for that was the name
of the dead goodman),and they were saying that they would
not bury such accursed folk, out would bear them a little
way so that they should not be vexed with the stink of them,
and cast them into the thicket for the wolf and the wild-cat
and the stoat to deal with ; and they should lie there, weapons
and silver and all; and they deemed it base to strip such
wretches, for who would wear their raiment or bear their
weapons after them.

There wasagreatringof folk round about them when they
of Burgstead drew near, and they shouted for joy to see their
neighbours, and made way before them. Then the Dalesmen
cursed these murderers who had slain so good a man, and
they all praised his manliness, whereas he ran out into the
night naked and wounded after his foe, and had fallen like
his folk of old time.

It was a bright spring afternoon in that clearing of the

87

Songariseth Wood, and they looked at the two dead men closely; and
in the hall Gold-mane, who had been somewhat silent and moody till
then, became merry and wordy; for he beheld the men and
saw that they were utterly strange to him : they were short of
stature, crooked-legged, long-armed, very strong for their
size: with small blue eyes, snubbed-nosed, wide-mouthed,
thin-lipped, very swarthy of skin, exceeding foul of favour.
He and all others wondered who they were, and whence they
came, for never had they seen their like; and the Wood-
landers, who often guested outlanders strayed from the way
of divers kindreds and nations, said also that none such had
they ever seen. But Stone-face, who stood by Gold-mane,
shook his head and quoth he:

"The Wild-wood holdeth many marvels, and these be of
them: the spawn of evil wights quickeneth therein, and at
other whiles it melteth away again like the snow ; so may it be
with these carcasses."

And some of the older folk of the Woodlanders who stood
by hearkened what he said, and deemed his words wise, for
they remembered their ancient lore and many a tale of old
time.

Thereafter they of Burgstead went into Wood-grey's hall,
or as many of them as might, for it was but a poor place and
not right great. There they saw the goodman laid on the dais
in all his war-gear, under the last tie-beam of his hall, whereon
was carved amidst much goodly work of knots and flowers
and twining stems the image of the Wolf of the Waste, his
jaws open and gaping : the wife and daughters of the goodman
and other women of the folk stood about the bier singing
some old song in a low voice, and some sobbing therewithal,
for the man was much beloved: and much people of the
Woodlanders was in the hall, and it was somewhat dusk
within.

So the Burgstead men greeted that folk kindly and hum-
bly, and again they fell to praising the dead man, saying how
his deed should long be remembered in the Dale and wide
88

about ; and they called him a fearless man and of great worth. The Song of
And the women hearkened, and ceased their crooning and the Wearing
their sobbing, and stood up proudly and raised their heads ofthc Banncr
with gleaming eyes; and as the words of the Burgs tead men
ended, they lifted up their voices and sang loudly and clearly,
standing together in a row, ten of them, on the dais of that
poor hall, facing the gable and the wolf-adorned tie-beam,
heeding nought as they sang what was about or behind them.
And this is some of what they sang:

Why sit ye bare in the spinning-room?
Why weave ye naked at the loom?

Bare and white as the moon we be,

That the Earth and the drifting night may see.

Now what is the worst of all your work?
What curse amidst the web shall lurk?

The worst of the work our hands shall win
Is rack and ruin round the kin.

Shall the woollen yarn and the flaxen thread
Be gear for living men or dead?

The woollen yarn and the flaxen thread
Shall flare 'twixt living men and dead.

O what is the ending of your day?
When shall ye rise and wend away?

Our day shall end to-morrow morn,
When we hear the voice of the battle-horn.

Where first shall eyes of men behold
This weaving of the moonlight cold?

There where the alien host abides
The gathering on the Mountain-sides.

8 9

Men's deem- How long aloft shall the fair web fly

ing of these When the bows are bent and the spears draw nigh ?

deeds

From eve to morn and morn till eve
Aloft shall fly the work we weave.

What then is this, the web ye win?
What wood-beast waxeth stark therein ?

We weave the Wolf and the gift of war
From the men that were to the men that are.

So sang they: and much were all men moved at their sing-
ing, and there was none but called to mind the old days of the
Fathers, and the years when their banner went wide in the
world.

But the Woodlanders feasted them of Burgstead what they
might, and then went the Dalesmen back to their houses; but
on the morrow's morrow they fared thither again, and Wood-
grey was laid in mound amidst a great assemblage of the Folk.

Many men said that there was no doubt that those two
felons were of the company of those who had ransacked the
steads of Penny-thumb and Harts-bane; and so at first
deemed Bristlerthe son of Brightling: but after a while, when
he had had time to think of it, he changed his mind; for he
said that such men as these would have slain first and ran-
sacked afterwards: and some who loved neither Penny-
thumb nor Harts-bane said that they would not have been at
the pains to choose for ransacking the two worst men about
the Dale, whose loss was no loss to any but themselves.

As for Gold-mane he knew not what to think, except that
his friends of the Mountain had had nought to do with it.

So wore the days awhile.

90

CHAPTER XVI. THE BRIDE SPEAKETH WITH
FACE-OF-GOD.

FEBRUARY had died into March, and March was now Face-of-god
twelve days old, on a fair and sunny day an hour before thinkcth of
noon; and Face-of-god was in a meadow a scant mile ^ Br "* c
down the Dale from Burgstead. He had been driving a bull
intoagoodman's byre nearby, and had had to spend toil and
patience both in getting him out of the fields and into the
byre; for the beast was hot with the spring days and the new
grass. So now he was resting himself in happy mood in an
exceeding pleasant place, a little meadow to wit, on one side
whereof was a great orchard or grove of sweet chestnuts,
which went right up to the feet of the Southern Cliffs : across
the meadow ran a clear brook towards the Weltering Water,
free from big stones, in some places dammed up for the
flooding of the deep pasture-meadow, and with the grass
■owing on its lips down to the very water. There was a low
ink just outside the chestnut trees, as if someone had raised
a dyke about them when they were young, which had been
trodden low and spreading through the lapse of years by the
faring of many men and beasts. The primroses bloomed
thick upon it now, and here and there along it was a low
blackthorn bush in full blossom; from the mid-meadow and
right down to the lip of the brook was the grass well-nigh
hidden by the blossoms of the meadow-saffron, with daffo-
dils sprinkled about amongst them, and in the trees and
bushes the birds, and chiefly the blackbirds, were singing
their loudest.

There sat Face-of-god on the bank resting after his toil,
and happy was his mood ; since in two days' wearing he
should be pacing the Maiden Ward awaiting the token that
was to lead him to Shadowy Vale; so he sat calling to mind
the Friend as he had last seen her, and striving as it were to
set her image standing on the flowery grass before him, till
all the beauty of the meadow seemed bare and empty to him
without her. Then it fell into his mind that this had been a

9*

The Bride beloved trysting-place betwixt him and the Bride, and that
herself often when they were little would they come to gather chest-

nuts in the grove, and thereafter sit and prattle on the old
dyke; or in spring when the season was warm would they go
barefoot into the brook, seeking its treasures of troutlets
and flowers and clean-washed agate pebbles. Yea, and time
not long ago had they met here to talk as lovers, and sat on
that very bank in all the kindness of good days without a
blemish, and both he and she had loved the place well for its
wealth of blossoms and deep grass and goodly trees and clear
running stream.

As he thought of all this, and how often there he had
praised to himself her beauty, which he scarce dared praise
to her, he frowned and slowly rose to his feet, and turned
toward the chestnut-grove, as though he would go thence
that way; but or ever he stepped down from the dyke he
turned about again, and even therewith, like the very image
and ghost of his thought, lol the Bride herself coming up
from out the brook and wending toward him, her wet naked
feet gleaming in the sun as they trod down the tender
meadow-saffron and brushed past the tufts of daffodils. He
stood staring at her discomforted,for on that day he had much
to think of that seemed happy to him, and he deemed that
she would now question him, and his mind pondered divers
ways of answering her, and none seemed good to him. She
drew near and let her skirts fall over her feet, and came to
him, her gown hem dragging over the flowers : then she stood
straight up before him and greeted him, but reached not
forth her hand to him nor touched him. Her face was paler
than its wont, and her voice trembled as she spake to him
and said :

" Face-of-god, I would ask thee a gift."

"All gifts," he said, "that thou mayest ask, and I may
give, lie open to thee."

She said : " If I be alive when the time comes this gift thou
mayst well give me."

" Sweet kinswoman," said he, " tell me what it is that thou
92

wouldest have of me." And he was ill-at-ease as he waited The Gift to
for her answer. be and its

She said: "Ah, kinsman, kinsman 1 Woe on the day that token
maketh kinship accursed to me because thou desirest itl "

He held his peace and was exceeding sorry; and she said:

" This is the gift that I ask of thee, that in the days to come
when thou art wedded, thou wilt give me the second man-
child whom thou beget test."

He said: "This shalt thou have, and would that I might
give thee much more. Would that we were little children
together once again, as when we played here in other days."

She said: "I would have a token of thee that thou shalt
show to the God, and swear on it to give me the gift. For the
times change."

"What token wilt thou have?" said he.

She said : " When next thou forest to the Wood, thou shalt
bring me back, it maybe a flower from the bank ye sit upon,
or a splinter from the dais of the hall wherein ye feast, or
maybe a ring or some matter that the strangers are wont to
wear. That shall be the token."

She spoke slowly, hanging her head adown, but she lifted
it presently and looked into his face and said :

"Woe's me, woe's me, Gold-mane 1 How evil is this day,
when bewailing me I may not bewail thee also! For I know
that thine heart is glad. All through the winter have I kept
this hidden in my heart, and durst not speak to thee. But
now the spring-tide hath driven me to it. Let summer come,
and who shall say?"

Great was his grief, and his shame kept him silent, and he
had no word to say; and again she said:

"Tell me, Gold-mane, when goest thou thither?"

He said: " I know not surely, may happen in two days,
may happen in ten. Why askest thou?"

"O friend ! " she said, "is it a new thing that I should ask
thee whither thou goest and whence thou comest, and the
times of thy comingand going? Farewell to-day! Forget not
the token. Woe's me, that I may not kiss thy fair face ! "

93

[Gold-mane She spread her arms abroad and lifted up her face as one
recalleth w ho waileth, but no sound came from her lips; then she
fair days] turned about and went away as she had come.

But as for him he stood there after she was gone in all
confusion, as if he were undone: for he felt his manhood
lessened that he should thus and so sorely have hurt a friend,
and in a manner against his will. And yet he was somewhat
wroth with her, that she had come upon him so suddenly,
and spoken to him with such mastery, and in so few words,
and he with none to make answer to her, and that she had so
marred his pleasure and his hope of that fair day. Then he
sat him down again on the flowery bank, and little by little
his heart softened, and he once more called to mind many a
time when they had been there before, and the plays and the
games they had had together there when they were little.
And he bethought him of the days that were long to him
then, and now seemed short to him, and as if they were all
grown together into one story, and that a sweet one. Then
his breast heaved with a sob, and the tears rose to his eyes
and burned and stung him, and he fell a-weeping for that
sweet tale, and wept as he had wept once before on that old
dyke when there had been some child's quarrel between
them, and she had gone away and left him.

Then after a while he ceased his weeping, and looked about
him lest anyone might be coming, and then he arose and
went to and fro in the chestnut-grove for a good while, and
afterwards went his ways from that meadow, saying to him-
self: " Yet remaineth to me the morrow of to-morrow, and
that is the first of the days of the watching for the token."

But all that day he was slow to meet the eyes of men; and
in the hall that eve he was silent and moody; for from time
to time it came over him that some of his manhood had
departed from him.

94

CHAPTER XVII. THE TOKEN COMETH FROM
THE MOUNTAIN.

THE next day wore away tidingless; and the day after The fim
Face-of-god arose betimes; for it was the first day of day's watch
his watch, and he was at the Maiden Ward before the on £ c *? aid "
time appointed on a very fair and bright morning, and hc w a
went to and fro on that place, and had no tidings. So he came
away somewhat cast down, and said within himself: " Is it
but a lie and a mocking when all is said? "

On the morrow he went thither again, and the morn was The second
wild and stormy with drift of rain, and low clouds hurrying day's watch
over the earth, though for the sunrise they lifted a little in the
east, and the sun came up over the passes, amidst the red and
angry rack of clouds. This morn also gave him no tidings of
the token, and he was wroth and perturbed in spirit: but to-
wards evening he said: " It is well: ten days she gave me, so
that she might be able to send without fail on one of them;
she will not fail me."

So again on the morrow he was there betimes, and the And the
morn was windy as on the day before, but the clouds higher third
and of better promise for the day. Face-of-god walked to and
fro on the Maiden Ward, and as he turned toward Burgstead
for the tenth time, he heard, as he deemed, a bow-string twang
afar off, and even therewith came a shaft flying heavily like a
winged bird, which smote a great standing-stone on the other
side of the way, where of old some chieftain had been buried,
and fell to earth at its foot. He went up to it and handled it, and
saw that there was a piece of thin parchment wrapped about
it, which indeed he was eager to unwrap at once, but forbore;
because he was on the highway, and people were already astir,
and even then passed by him a goodman of the Dale with a
man of his going afield together, and they gave him the sele
of the day. So he went along the highway a little till he came
to a place where was a footbridge over into the meadow. He
crossed thereby and went swiftly till he reached a rising
ground grown over with hazel-trees; there he sat down

95

tarn

A letter from among the rabbit-holes, the primrose and wild-garlic bloom-
thc Moun- ing about him, and three blackbirds answering one another
from the edges of the coppice. Straightway when he had
looked and seen none coming he broke the threads that were
wound about the scroll and the arrow, and unrolled the
parchment; and there was writing thereon in black ink of
small letters, but very fair, and this is what he read therein :

Come thou to the Mountain Hall by the path which thou know est
of, on the morrow of the day whereon thou r cades t this. Rise betimes
and come armed, for there are other men than we in the wood, to
whom thy death should be a gain. When thou art come to the Hall,
thou shah find no man therein; but a great hound only, tied to a
bench nigh the dais. Call him by his name, Sure-foot to wit, and
give him to eat from the meat upon the board, and give him water
to drink. If the day is then far spent, as it is like to be, abide thou
with the hound in the hall through the night, and eat of what thou
shalt find there; but see that the hound fares not abroad till the
morrow* s morn: then lead him out and bring him to the north-east
corner of the Hall, and he shall lift the slot for thee that leadeth to
the Shadowy Vale. Follow him and all good go with thee.

Now when he had read this, earth seemed fair indeed about
him, and he scarce knew whither to turn or what to do to
make the most of his joy. He presently went back to Burg-
stead and into the House of the Face, where all men were
astir now, and the day was clearing. He hid the shaft under
his kirtle, for he would not that any should see it ; so he went
to his shut-bed and laid it up in his chest, wherein he kept his
chiefest treasures; but the writing on the scroll he set in his
bosom and so hid it. He went joyfully and proudly, as one
who knoweth more tidings and better than thosearound him.
But Stone-face beheld him, and said: "Foster- son, thou art
happy. Is it that the spring-tide is in thy blood, and maketh
thee blithe with all things, or hast thou some new tidings?
Nay, I would not havean answer out of thee; but here is good
rede: when next thou goest into the wood, it were nought so
96

ill for thee to have a valiant old carle by thy side; one that Face-of-god
loveth thee, and would die for thee if need were; one who comcth
might watch when thou wert seeking. Or else beware! for ?™ c .
there are evil things abroad in the Wood, and moreover the haU - n "
brethren of those two felons who were slain at Carlstead."

Then Gold-mane constrained himself to answer the old
carle softly; and he thanked him kindly for his offer, and said
that so it should be before long. So the talk between them fell,
and Stone-face went away somewhat well-pleased.

And now was Face-of-god become wary; and he would
not draw men's eyes and speech on him; so he went afield
with Hall-face to deal with the lambs and the ewes, and did
like other men. No less wary was he in the hall that even, and
neither spake much nor little; and when his father spake to
him concerning the Bride, and made game of him as a some-
what sluggish groom, he did not change countenance, but
answered lightly what came to hand.

On the morrow ere the earliest dawn he was afoot, and he
clad himself and did on his hauberk, his father's work, which
was fine-wrought and a stout defence, and reached down to
his knees; and over that he did on a goodly green kirtle well
embroidered : he girt his war-sword to his side, and it was the
work of his father's father, and a very good sword: its name
was Dale-warden. He did a good helm on his head, and slung
a targe at his back, and took two spears in his hand, short but
strong-shafted and well-steeled. Thus arrayed he left Burg-
stead before the dawn, and came to Wildlake's Way and be-
took him to the Woodland. He made no stop or stay on the
Eath, but ate his meat standing by an oak-tree close by the
alf-blind track. When he came to the little wood-lawn,
where was the toft of the ancient house, he looked all round
about him, for he deemed that a likely place for those ugly
wood-wights to set on him; but nought befell him, though
he stooped and drank of the woodland rill warily enough. So
he passed on; and there were other places also where he fared
warily, because they seemed like to hold lurking felons;
though forsooth the whole wood might well serve their turn.
xv.h 97

The Hound But no evil befell him, and at last, when it yet lacked an hour
in the Hall to sunset, he came to the wood-lawn where Wild-wearer had

made his onset that other eve.

He went straight up to the house, his heart beating, and
he scarce believing but that he should find the Friend abiding
him there: but when he pushed the door it gave way before
him at once, and he entered and found no man therein, and
the walls stripped bare and no shield or weapon hanging on
the panels. But the hound he saw tied to a bench nigh the
dais, and the bristles on the beast's neck arose, and he snarled
on Face-of-god, and strained on his leathern leash. Then
Face-of-god went up to him and called him by his name, Sure-
foot, and gave him his hand to lick, and he brought him water,
and fed him with flesh from the meat on the board; so the
beast became friendly and wagged his tail and whined and
slobbered his hand.

Then he went all about the house, and saw and heard no
living thing therein save the mice in the panels and Sure-foot.
So he came back to the dais, and sat him down at the board
and ate his fill, and thought concerning his case. And it came
into his mind that the Woman of the Mountain had some
deed for him to do which would try his manliness and exalt
his fame; and his heart rose high and he was glad, and he saw
himself sitting beside her on the dais of a very fair hall be-
loved and honoured of all the folk, and none had aught to
say against him or owed him any grudge. Thus he pleased
himself in thinking of the good days to come, sitting there
till the hall grew dusk and dark and the night-wind moaned
about it.

Then after a while he arose and raked together the brands
on the hearth, and made light in the hall and looked to the
door. And he found there were bolts and bars thereto, so he
shot the bolts and drew the bars into their places and made
all as sure as might be. Then he brought Sure-foot down from
the dais, and tied him up so that he might lie down athwart
the door, and then lay down in his hauberk with his naked
sword ready to his hand, and slept a long while.

9 8

When he awoke it was darker than when he had lain him The Wilder-
down, for the moon had set; yet he deemed that the day was nCM
at point of breaking. So he fetched water and washed the
night off him, and saw a little glimmer of the dawn. Then he
ate somewhat of the meat on the board, and did on his helm
and his other gear, and unbarred the door, and led Sure-foot
without, and brought him to the north-east corner of the
house, and in a little while he lifted the slot and they departed,
the man and the hound, just as dawn broke from over the
mountains.

Sure-foot led right into the heart of the pine-wood, and it
was dark enough therein, with nought but a feeble glimmer
for some while, and long was the way therethrough ; but in
two hours' space was there something of a break, and they
came to the shore of a dark deep tarn on whose windless
and green waters the daylight shone fully.The hound skirted
the water, and led on unchecked till the trees began to grow
smaller and the air colder for all that the sun was higher; for
they had been going up and up all the way.

So at last after a six hours' journey they came clean out of
the pine-wood, and before them lay the black wilderness of
the bare mountains, and beyond them, looking quite near
now, the great ice-peaks, the wall of the world. It was but an
hour short of noon by this time, and the high sun shone down
on a barren boggy moss which lay betwixt them and the rocky
waste. Sure-foot made no stay, but threaded the ways that
went betwixt the quagmires, and in another hour led Face-
of-god into a winding valley blinded by great rocks, and
everywhere stony and rough, with a trickle of water running
amidst of it. The hound fared on up the dale to where the
water was bridged by a great fallen stone, and so over it and
up a steep bent on the further side, on to a marvellously
rough mountain-neck, whiles mere black sand cumbered
with scattered rocks and stones, whiles beset with mires
grown over with the cottony mire-grass; here and there a
little scanty grass growing; otherwhere nought but dwarf
willow ever dying ever growing, mingled with moss or
H2 99

The gate of red-blossomed sengreen; and all blending together into

Shadowy mere desolation.

Valc Few living things they saw there; up on the neck a few

sheep were grazing the scanty grass, but there was none to
tend them ; yet Face-of-god deemed the sight of them good,
for there must be men anigh who owned them. For the rest,
the whimbrel laughed across the mires; high up in heaven a
great eagle was hanging; once and again a grey fox leapt up
before them, and the heath-fowl whirred up from under Face-
of-god's feet. A raven who was sitting croaking on a rock in
that first dale stirred uneasily on his perch as he saw them,
and when they were passed flapped his wings and flew after
them croaking still.

Now they tared over that neck somewhat east, making but
slow way because the ground was so broken and rocky; and
in another hour's space Sure-foot led down-hill due east to
where the stony neck sank into another desolate miry heath
still falling toward the east, but whose further side was walled
by a rampart of crags cleft at their tops into marvellous shapes,
coal-black, ungrassed and unmossed.Thitherward the hound
led straight, and Gold-mane followed wondering: as he drew
near them he saw that they were not very high, the tallest
peak scant fifty feet from the face of the heath.

They made their way through the scattered rocks at the
foot of these crags, till, just where the rock-wall seemed the
closest, the way through the stones turned into a path going
through it skew-wise; and it was now so clear a path that
belike it had been bettered by men's hands. Down thereby
Face-of-god followed the hound, deeming that he was come
to the gates of the Shadowy Vale, and the path went down
steeply and swiftly. But when he had gone down a while, the
rocks on his right hand sank lower for a space, so that he could
look over and see what lay beneath.

There lay below him a long narrow vale quite plain at the

bottom, walled on the further side as on the hither by sheer

rocks of black stone. The plain was grown over with grass,

but he could see no tree therein : a deep river, dark and green,

ioo

ran through the vale, sometimes through its midmost, some- In Shad<?wy
times lapping the further rock-wall: and he thought indeed Vale J :
that on many a day in the year the sun would never shine on
that valley.

Thus much he saw, and then the rocks rose again and shut •'.. -

it from his sight ; and at last they drew so close together over
head that he was in a way going through a cave with little day-
light coming from above, and in the end he was in a cave in-
deed and mere darkness: but with the last feeble glimmer of
light he thought he saw carved on a smooth space of the living
rock at his left hand the image of a wolf.

This cave lasted but a little way, and soon the hound and
the man weregoingonce more between sheer black rocks, and
the path grew steeper yet and was cut into steps. At last there
was a sharp turn, and they stood on the top of a long stony
scree, down which Sure-foot bounded eagerly, giving tongue
as he went; but Face-of-god stood still and looked, for now
the whole Dale lay open before him.

That river ran from north to south, and at the south end
the cliffs drew so close to it that looking thence no outgate
could be seen; but at the north end there was as it were a
dreary street of rocks, the river flowing amidmost and leav-
ing little foothold on either side, somewhat as it was with the
pass leading from the mountains into Burgdale.

Amidmost of the Dale a little toward the north end he saw
a doom-ring of black stones, and hard by it an ancient hall
builded of the same black stone both wall and roof, and thi-
therward was Sure-foot now running. Face-of-god looked
up and down the Dale and could see no break in the wall of
sheer rock: toward the southern end he saw a few booths and
cots built roughly of stone and thatched with turf; there-
about he saw a few folk moving about, the most of whom
seemed to be women and children; there were some sheep
and lambs near these cots, and a herd of fifty or so of some-
what goodly mountain-kine were feeding higher up the val-
ley. He could look down into the river from where he stood,
and he saw that it ran between rocky banks going straight

IOI

• ••

•-•

• • •

A fair wel- down from the face of the meadow, which was rather high

co f l * . / above the water, so that it seemed little likely that the water

/•. % ] should rise over its banks, either in summer or winter; and

in summer was it like to be highest, because the vale was so

;-.*•• near to the high mountains and their snows.

•

. • •

• *

•

•

• • •

•

•

..

•

•

..

•• •

••

» •

• ,

.• •

•

CHAPTER XVIII. FACE-OF-GOD TALKETH
WITH THE FRIEND IN SHADOWY VALE.

IT was now about two hours after noon, and a broad band
of sunlight lay upon the grass of the vale below Gold-
mane's feet; he went lighdy down the scree, and strode
forward over the level grass toward the Doom-ring, his helm
and war-gear glittering bright in the sun. He must needs
go through the Doom-ring to come to the Hall, and as he
stepped out from behind the last of the big upright-stones,
he saw a woman standing on the threshold of the Hall-door,
which was but some score of paces from him, and knew her
at once for the Friend.

She was clad like himself in a green kirtle gaily embroi-
dered and fitting close to her body, and had no gown or cloak
over it; she had a golden fillet on her head beset with blue
mountain stones, and her hair hung loose behind her.

Her beauty was so exceeding, and so far beyond all
memory of her that his mind had held, that once more fear
of her fell upon Face-of-god, and he stood still with beating
heart till she should speak to him. But she came forward
swiftly with both her hands held out, smiling and happy-
faced,and looking very kindly on him, and she took his hands
and said to him :

" Now welcome, Gold-mane, welcome, Face-of-god! and
twice welcome art thou and threefold. Lo I this is the day that
thou hast asked for: art thou happy in it?"

He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them timorous-
ly, but said nought ;and therewithal Sure-foot came running
forth from the Hall, and fell to bounding round about them,
barking noisily after the manner of dogs who have met their
102

masters again ; and still she held his hands and beheld him The Image
kindly. Then she called the hound to her, and patted him on of the Wolf
the neck and quieted him, and then turned to Face-of-god
and laughed happily and said:

"I do not bid thee hold thy peace; yet thou sayest nought.
Is it well with thee?"

" Yea," he said, "and more than well."

"Thou seemest to me a goodly warrior," she said; " hast
thou met any foemen yesterday or this morning?"

"Nay," said he, "none hindered me; thou hast made the
ways easy to me."

She said soberly, " Such as I might do, I did. But we may
not wield everything, for our foes are many, and I feared for
thee. But come thou into our house, which is ours, and far
more ours than the booth before the pine-wood."

She took his hand again and led him toward the door, but
Face-of-god looked up, and above the lintel he saw carved
on the dark stone that image of the Wolf, even as he had
seen it carved on Wood-grey s tie-beam ; and therewith such
thoughts came into his mind that he stopped to look, press-
ing the Friend's hand hard as though bidding her note it.
The stone wherein the image was carved was darker than the
other building stones, and might be called black; the jaws of
the wood-beast were open and gaping, and had been painted
with cinnabar, but wind and weather had worn away the most
of the colour.

Spake the Friend: " So it is: thou beholdest the token of
the God and Father of our Fathers, that telleth the tale of so
many days, that the days which now pass by us be to them but
as the drop in the sea of waters. Thou beholdest the sign of
our sorrow, the memory of our wrong; yet is it also the to-
ken of our hope. Maybe it shall lead thee far."

"Whither?" said he. But she answered not a great while,
and he looked at her as she stood a-gazing on the image, and
saw how the tears stole out of her eyes and ran adown her
cheeks. Then again came the thought to him ofWood-grey 's
hall, and the women of the kindred standing before the Wolf

103

They go into and singing of him; and though there was little comeliness
the Hall in them and she was so exceeding beauteous, he could not
but deem that they were akin to her.

But after a while she wiped the tears from her face and
turned to him and said : " My friend, the Wolf shall lead
thee nowhither but where I also shall be, whatsoever peril
or grief may beset the road or lurk at the ending thereof.
Thou shalt be no thrall, to labour while I look on."

His heart swelled within him as she spoke, and he was at
point to beseech her love that moment; but now her face had
grown gay and bright again, and she said while he was gather-
ing words to speak withal :

"Come in, Gold-mane, come into our house; for I have
many things to say to thee. And moreover thou art so hushed,
and so fearsome in thy mail, that I think thou yet deemest
me to be a Wight of the Waste, such as Stone-Face thy Fos-
terer told thee tales of, and forewarned thee. So would I eat
before thee, and sign the meat with the sign of the Earth-
god's Hammer, to show thee that he is in error concerning
me, and that I am a very woman flesh and fell, as my kindred
were before me."

He laughed and was exceeding glad, and said : " Tell me
now, kind friend, dost thou deem that Stone-face's tales are
mere mockery of his dreams, and that he is beguiled by
empty semblances or less? Or are there such Wights in the
Waste?"

"Nay," she said, "the man is a true man; and of these
things are there many ancient tales which we may not doubt.
Yet so it is that such wights have I never yet seen, nor aught
to scare me save evil men: belike it is that I have been over-
much busied in dealing with sorrow and ruin to look after
them : or it may be that they feared me and the wrath-breed-
ing grief of the kindred."

He looked at her earnestly, and the wisdom of her heart
seemed to enter in to his; but she said: " It is of men we must
talk, and of me and thee. Come with me, my friend."

And she stepped lightly over the threshold and drew him
104

in. The Hall was stern and grim and somewhat dusky, for its A game of
windows were but small: it was all of stone, both walls and »pear casting
roof. There was no timber-work therein save the benches and
chairs, and a little about the doors at the lower end that led
to the buttery and out-bowers ; and this seemed to have been
wrought of late years; yea, the chairs against the gable on the
dais were of stone built into the wall, adorned with carving
somewhat sparingly, the image of the Wolf being done over
the midmost of them. He looked up and down the Hall, and
deemed it some seventy feet over all from end to end ; and
he could see in the dimness those same goodly hangings on
the wall which he had seen in the woodland booth.

She led him up to the dais, and stood there leaning up
against the arm of one of those stone seats silent for a while;
then she turned and looked at him, and said:

"Yea, thou lookest a goodly warrior; yet am I glad that
thou earnest hither without battle. Tell me, Gold-mane," she
said, taking one of his spears from his hand, "art thou deft
with the spear?"

" I have been called so," said he.

She looked at him sweetly and said : " Canst thou show
me the feat of spear-throwing in this Hall, or shall we wend
outside presently that I may see thee throw?"

" The Hall sufficeth," he said. " Shall I set this steel in the
lintel of the buttery door yonder?"

"Yea, if thou canst," she said.

He smiled and took the spear from her, and poised it and
shook it till it quivered again, then suddenly drew back his
arm and cast, and the shaft sped whistlingdown the dim hall,
and smote the aforesaid door-lintel and stuck there quiver-
ing: then he sprang down from the dais, and ran down the
hall, and put forth his hand and pulled it forth from the wood,
and was on the dais again in a trice, and cast again, and the
second time set the spear in the same place, and then took
his other spear from the board and cast it, and there stood
the two staves in the wood side by side; then he went sober-
ly down the hall and drew them both out of the wood and

105

Face-of-god came back to her, while she stood watching him, her cheek
docth off his flushed, her lips a little parted.

armour She said: "Good spear-casting, forsooth I and far above

what our folk can do, who be no great throwers of the spear."

Gold-mane laughed : " Sooth is that," said he, " or hardly
were I here to teach thee spear-throwing."

" Wilt thou never be paid for that simple onslaught ?" she
said.

<c Have I been paid then ?" said he.

She reddened, for she remembered her word to him on
the mountain ;and he put his hand on her shoulder and kissed
her cheek, but timorously; nor did she withstand him or
shrink aback, but said soberly:

cc Good indeed is thy spear-throwing, and meseems my
brother will love thee when he hath seen thee strike a stroke
or two in wrath. But, fair warrior, there be no foemen here:
so get thee to the lower end of the Hall, and in the bower be-
yond shalt thou find fresh water; there wash the waste from
offthee, and do off thine helm and hauberk, and come back
speedily and eat with me; for I hunger, and so dost thou."

He did as she bade him, and came back presently bearing
in his hand both helm and hauberk, and he looked light-
limbed and trim and lissome, an exceeding goodly man.

CHAPTER XIX. THE FAIR WOMAN TELLETH
FACE-OF-GOD OF HER KINDRED.

WHEN he came back to the dais he saw that there
was meat upon the board, and the Friend said to

" Now art thou Gold-mane indeed : but come now, sit by
me and eat, though the Wood- woman giveth thee but a sorry
banquet, O guest; but from the Dale it is, and we be too far
now from the dwellings of men to have delicate meat on the
board, though to-night when they come back thy cheer shall
be better. Yet even then thou shalt have no such dainties as
Stone-face hath imagined for thee at the hands of the Wood-
wight"
106

She laughed therewith, and he no less; and in sooth the They eat
meat was but simple, of curds and new cheese, meat of the together
herdsmen. But Face-of-god said gaily: "Sweet it shall be to
me; good is all that the Friend giveth."

Then she raised her hand and made the sign of the Ham-
mer over the board, and looked up at him and said:

" Hath the Earth-god changed my face, Gold-mane, to
what I verily am?"

He held his face close to hers and looked into it, and him-
seemed it was as pure as the waters of a mountain lake, and
as fine and well-wrought every deal of it as when his father
had wrought in his stithy many days and fashioned a small
piece of great mastery. He was ashamed to kiss her again,
but he said to himself, " This is the fairest woman of the
world, whom I have sworn to wed this year. "Then he spake
aloud and said :

"I see the face of the Friend, and itwillnot change to me."

Again she reddened a little, and the happy look in her face
seemed to grow yet sweeter, and he was bewildered with
longing and delight.

But she stood up and went to an ambrye in the wall and
brought forth a horn shod and lipped with silver of ancient
fashion, and she poured wi ne into it and held it forth and said :

"O guest from the Dale, I pledge theel and when thou
hast drunk to me in turn we will talk of weighty matters. For
indeed I bear hopes in my hands too heavy for the daughters
of men to bear ; and thou art a chieftain's son, and mayst well
help me to bear them ; so let us talk simply and without guile,
as folk that trust one another."

So she drank and held out the horn to him, and he took
the horn and her hand both, and he kissed her hand and said :

" Here in this Hall I drink to the Sons of the Wolf, who-
soever they be." Therewith he drank and he said : " Simply
and guilelessly indeed will I talk with thee ; for I am weary of
lies, and for thy sake have I told a many."

" Thou shalt tell no more," she said ; " and as for the health
thou hast drunk, it is good, and shall profit thee. Now sit we
here in these ancient seats and let us talk."

107

She asketh So they sat them down while the sun was westering in the

of tidingi March afternoon, and she said :

"Tell me first what tidings have been in the Dale."

So he told her of the ransackings and of the murder at
Carlstead.

She said: "These tidings have we heard before, and some
deal of them we know better than ye do, or can ; for we were
the ransackers of Penny-thumb and Harts-bane. Thereof
will I say more presently. What other tidings hast thou to
tell of? What oaths were sworn upon the Boar last Yule? "

So he told her of the oath of Bristlerthesonof Brightling.
She smiled and said : " He shall keep his oath, and yet redden
no blade."

Then he told of his father's oath, and she said:

" It is good; but even so would he do and no oath sworn.
All men may trust Iron-face. And thou, my friend, what oath
didst thou swear?"

His face grew somewhat troubled as he said : " I swore to
wed the fairest woman in the world, though the Dalesmen
gainsaid me, and they beyond the Dale/'

"Yea," she said, "and there is no need to ask thee whom
thou didst mean by thy * fairest woman/ for I have seen that
thou deemest me fair enough. My friend, maybe thy kindred
will be against it, and the kindred of the Bride; and it might
be that my kindred would have gainsaid it if things were not
as they are. But though all men gainsay it, yet will not I. It
is meet and right that we twain wed."

She spake very soberly and quietly, but when she had
spoken there was nothing in his heart but joy and gladness:
yet shame of her loveliness refrained him, and he cast down
his eyes before hers. Then she said in a kind voice:

" I know thee, how glad thou art of this word of mine, be-
cause thou lookest on me with eyes of love, and thinkest of
me as better than I am ; though I am no ill woman and no be-
guiler. But this is not all that 1 have to say to thee, though it be
much; for there are more folk in the world than thou and I
only. But I told thee this first, that thou mightest trust me in
1 08

all things. So, my friend, if thou canst, refrain thy joy and thy Glad it Face-
longing a little, and hearken to what concerneth thee and me, of-god
and thy people and mine."

"Fair woman and sweet friend," he said, "thou knowest
of a gladness which is hard to bear if one must lay it aside for
a while; and of a longing which is hard to refrain if it mingle
with another longing — knowest thou not?"

"Yea," she said, "I know it."

"Yet," said Fac6-of-god, "I will forbear as thou biddest
me. Tell me, then, what were the felons who were slain at
Carl stead? Knowest thou of them?"

" Over well,' ' she said, " they are our foes this many a year ;
and since we met last autumn they have become foes of you
Dalesmen also. Soon shall ye have tidings of them ; and it was
against them that I bade thee arm yesterday."

Said Face-of-god: "Is it against them that thou wouldst
have us do battle along with thy folk? "

" So it is," she said ; " no other foemen have we. And now,
Gold-mane, thou art become a friend of the Wolf, and shalt
before long be of affinity with our House; that other day
thou didst ask me to tell thee of me and mine, and now will
I do according to thine asking. Short shall my tale be ; because
maybe thou shalt hear it told again, and in goodly wise, be-
fore thine whole folk.

"As thou wottest we be now outlaws and Wolves* Heads;
and whiles we lift the gear of men, but ever if we may of ill
men and not of good; there is no worthy goodman of the
Dale from whom we would take one hoof, or a skin of wine,
or a cake of wax.

"Wherefore are we outlaws? Because we have been driven
from our own, and we bore away our lives and our weapons,
and little else ; and for our lands, thou seest this Vale in the
howling wilderness and how narrow and poor it is, though it
hath been the nurse of warriors in time past.

" Hearken I Time long ago came the kindred of the Wolf
to these Mountains of the World; and they were in a pass in
the stony maze and the utter wilderness of the Mountains,

109

The Men of and the foe was behind them in numbers not to be borne up
the Wolf against. And so it befell that the pass forked, and there were
g" 1 . comc t0 two ways before our Folk ; and one part of them would take
Vale OWy *k e way to the north and the other the way to the south ; and

they could not agree which way the whole Folk should take.
So they sundered into two companies, and one took one way
and one another. Now as to those who fared by the southern
road, we knew not what befell them, nor for long and long
had we any tale of them.

" But we who took the northern road, we happened on this
Vale amidst the wilderness, and we were weary of fleeing from
the over-mastering foe; and the dale seemed enough, and a
refuge, and a place to dwell in, and no man was there before
us, and few were like to find it, and we were but a few. So we
dwelt here in this Vale for as wild as it is, the place where the
sun shineth never in the winter, and scant is the summer sun-
shine therein. Here we raised a Doom-ring and builded us a
Hall, wherein thou now sittest beside me, O friend, and we
dwelt here many seasons.

" We had a few sheep in the wilderness, and a few neat fed
down the grass of the Vale; and we found gems and copper
in the rocks about us wherewith at whiles to chaffer with the
aliens, and fish we drew from our river the Shivering Flood.
Also it is not to be hidden that in those days we did not spare
to lift the goods of men ; yea, whiles would our warriors fare
down unto the edges of the Plain and lie in wait there till the
time served, and then drive the spoil from under the very
walls of the Cities. Our men were not little-hearted, nor did
our women lament the death of warriors over-much, for they
were there to bear more warriors to the Folk.

" But the seasons passed, and the Folk multiplied in Sha-
dowy Vale, and livelihood seemed like to fail them, and needs
must they seek wider lands. So by ways which thou wilt one
day wot of, we came into a valley that heth north-west of Sha-
dowy Vale: a land like thine of Burgdale, or better; wide it
was,plenteousof grass and trees, well watered,fullof all things
that man can desire,
no

" Were there men before us in this Dale ? sayest thou. Yea, They win
but not very many, and they feeble in battle, weak of heart, Silverdale
though strong of body . These, when they saw the Sons of the
Wolf with weapons in theirhands,felt themselvespunybefore
us,and their hearts failed them ;and they came to us with gifts,
and offered to share the Dale between them and us, for they
said there was enough for both folks. So we took their offer
and became their friends; and some of our Houses wedded
wives of the strangers, and gave them their women to wife.
Therein they did amiss ; for the blended Folk as the genera-
tions passed became softer than our blood, and many were
untrusty and greedy and tyrannous, and the days of the
whoredom fell upon us, and when we deemed ourselves the
mightiest then were we the nearest to our fell. But the House
whereof I am would never wed with these Westlanders, and
other Houses there were who had affinity with us who chiefly
wedded with us of the Wolf, and their fathers had come with
ours into that fruitful Dale; and these were called the Red
Hand, and the Silver Arm, and the Golden Bushel, and the
Ragged Sword. Thou hast heard those names once before,
friend?"

" Yea," he said, and as he spoke the pifture of that other
day came back to him, and he called to mind all that he had
said, and his happinessof that hour seemed the moreand the
sweeter for that memory.

She went on : " Fair and goodly is that Dale as mine own
eyes have seen, and plentiful of all things, and up in its moun-
tains to the east are caves and pits whence silver is digged
abundantly; therefore is the Dale called Silverdale. Hast
thou heard thereof, my friend?"

"Nay," said Face-of-god, "though I have marvelled
whence ye gat such foison of silver."

He looked on her and marvelled, for now she seemed as if
it were another woman: her eyes were gleaming bright, her
lips were parted ; there was a bright red flush on the pommels
of her two cheeks as she spake again and said :

" Happy lived the Folk in Silverdale for many and many

in

The Aliens winters and summers : the seasons were good and no lack was
there: little sickness there was and less war, and all seemed
better than well. It is strange that ye Dalesmen have not heard
of Silverdale."

"Nay," said he, "but I have not; of Rosedale have I heard,
as a land very far away : but no further do we know of toward
that airt. Lieth Silverdale anywhere nigh to Rosedale? "

She said : "It is the next dale to it, yet is it a far journey be-
twixt the two, for the ice-sea pusheth a horn in betwixt them ;
and even below the ice the mountain-neck is passable to none
save a bold crag-climber, and to him only bearing his life in
his hands. But, my. friend, I am but lingering over my tale,
because it grieveth me sore to have to tell it. Hearken then I
In the days when I had seen but ten summers, and my brother
was a very young man, but exceeding strong, and as beautiful
as thou art now, war fell on us without rumour or warning;
for there swarmed into Silverdale, though not by the ways
whereby we had entered it, a host of aliens, short of stature,
crooked of limb, foul of aspedt, but fierce warriors and armed
full well: they were men having no country to go back to,
though they had no women or children with them, as we had
when we were young in these lands, but used all women whom
they took as their beastly lust bade them, making them their
thralls if they slew them not. Soon we found that these foe-
men asked no more of us than all we had, and therewithal our
lives to be cast away or used for their service as beasts of bur-
den or pleasure. There then we gathered our fighting-men &
withstood them ;and if we had been all of the kindreds of the
Wolf and the fruit of the wives of warriors, we should have
driven back these felons and saved the Dale, though it maybe
more than half ruined: but the most part of us were of that
mingled blood, or of the generations of the Dalesmen whom
we had conquered long ago, and stout as they were of body
their hearts railed them, and they gave themselves up to the
aliens to be as their oxen and asses.

"Why make a long tale of it? We who were left, and could
brook death but not thraldom, fought it out together, women
112

as well as men, till the sweetness of life and a happy chance for The Great
escape bid us flee, vanquished but free men. For at the end of Undoing
three days' fight we had been driven up to the easternmost
endof the Dade, and upanigh to the jaws of the passwhereby
the Folk had first come into Silverdale, and we had those
with us who knew every cranny of that way, while to strangers
who knew it not it was utterly impassable; night was coming
on also, and even those murder-carles were weary with slay-
ing; and, moreover, on this last day, when they saw that they
had won all, they were fighting to keep, and not to slay, and
a few stubborn carles and queens, of what use would they be,
or where was the gain of risking life to win them?

"So they forbore us, and nigh t came on moonless and dark ;
and it was the early spring season, when the days are not yet
long, and so by night and cloud we fled away, and back again
to Shadowy Vale.

"Forsooth, we were but a few; for when we were gotten into
this Vale, this strip of grass and water in the wilderness, and
had told up our company, we were but t wohundred and thirty
and five of men and women and children. For there were an
hundred and thirty and three grown men of all ages, and of
women grown seventy and five, and one score and seven
children, whereof I was one; for, as thou mayst deem, it
was easier for grown men with weapons in their hands to
escape from that slaughter than for women and children.

" There sat we in yonder Doom-ring and took counsel, and
to some it seemed good that we should all dwell together in
Shadowy Vale, and beset the skirts of thefoemen till the days
should better; but others deemed that there was little avail
therein ; and there was a mighty man of the kindred, Stone-
wolf by name, a man of middle-age, and he said, that late in
life had he tasted of war, and though the banquet was made
bitter with defeat, yet did the meat seem wholesome to him.
'Come down with me to the Cities of the Plain,' said he,
c all you who are stout warriors ; and leave we here the old
men and the swains and the women and children. Hateful are
the folk there, and full of malice, but soft withal and dastardly,
xv.i 113

Vale

Redes in Let us go down thither and make ourselves strong amongst
Shadowy them, and sell our valour for their wealth till we come to rule
them, and they make us their kings, and we establish the
Folk of the Wolf amongst the aliens; then will we come back
hither and bring away that which we have left.*

" So he spake, and the more part of the warriors yeasaid his
rede, and they went with him to the Westland, and amongst
these was my brother Folk-might (for that is his name in the
kindred). And I sorrowed at his departure, for he had borne
me thither out of the flames and the clash of swords and the
press of battle, and to me had he ever been kind and loving,
albeit he hath had the words of hard and fro ward used on him
full oft.

" So in this Vale abode we that were left, and the seasons
passed ; some of the elders died, and some of the children also ;
but more children were born, for amongst us were men and
women to whom it was lawful to wed with each other. Even
with this scanty remnant was left some of the life of the kin-
dred of old days ; and after we had been here but a little while,
the young men, yea and the old also, and even some of the
women, would steal through the passes that we, and we only,
knew of, and would fall upon the Aliens in Silverdale as oc-
casion served, and lift their goods both live and dead; and
this became both a craft and a pastime amongst us. Nor may
I hide that we sometimes went lifting otherwhere; for in the
summer and autumn we would fare west a little and abide in
the woods the season through, and hunt the deer thereof, and
whiles would we drive the spoil from the scattered folk not
far from your Shepherd-Folk; but with the Shepherds them-
selves and with you Dalesmen we meddled not.

<c Now that little wood-lawn with the toft of an ancient
dwelling in it, wherein, saith Bow-may, thou didst once rest,
was one of our summer abodes; and later on we built the hall
under the pine-wood that thou knowest.

" Thus then grew up our young men ; and our maids were
little softer ; e'en such as Bow-may is (and kind is she withal),
114

and it seemed in very sooth as if the Spirit of the Wolf was Life in
with us, and the roughness of the Waste made us fierce; and Shadowy
law we had not and heeded not, though love was amongst us." Valc

She stopped awhile and fell a-musing, and her face soften-
ed, and she turned to him with that sweet happy look upon
it and said:

"Desolate and dreary is the Dale, thou deemest, friend;
and yet for me I love it and its dark-green water, and it is to
me as if the Fathers of the kindred visit it and hold converse
with us ; and there I grew up when I was little, before I knew
what a woman was, and strange communings had I with the
wilderness. Friend, when we are wedded, and thou art a great
chieftain, as thou wilt be, I shall ask of thee the boon to suffer
me to abide here at whiles that I may remember the days when
I was little and the love of the kindred waxed in me."

"This is but a little thing to ask," said Face-of-god; "I
would thou hadst asked me more."

" Fear not," she said, " I shall ask thee formuch and many
things; and some of them belike thou shalt deny me."

He shook his head ; but she smiled in his face and said :

" Yea, so it is, friend ; but hearken. The seasons passed, and
six years wore, and I was grown a tall slim maiden, fleet of
foot and able to endure toil enough, though I never bore
weapons, nor have done. So on a fair even of midsummer
when we were together, the most of us, round about this
Hall and the Doom-ring, we saw a tall man in bright war-
gear come forth into the Dale by the path that thou earnest,
and then another and another till there were two score and
seven men-at-arms standing on the grass below the scree yon-
der; by that time had we gotten some weapons in our hands,
and westood together to meet the new-comers, but they drew
no sword and notched no shaft, but came towards us laughing
and joyous, and lo! it was my brother Folk-might and his
men, those that were left of them, come back to us from the
Westland.

" Glad indeed was I to behold him ; and for him, when he
12 115

warriors

The return had taken me in his arms and looked up and down the Dale,
of !^ e ^e cr *ed out : c I n m any fair places and many rich dwellings

have I been ; but this is the hour that I have looked for.'

" Now when we asked him concerning Stone-wolf and the
others who were missing (for ten tens of stalwart h men had
fared to the Westland), he swept out his hand toward the west
and said with a solemn face : ' There they lie, and grass grow-
eth over their bones, and we who have come aback, and ye
who have abided, these are now the children of the Wolf:
there are no more now on the earth.'

" Let be! It was a fair even and high was the feast in the
Hall that night, and sweet was the converse with our folk
come back. A glad man was my brother Folk-might when he
heard that for vears past we had been lifting the gear of men,
and chiefly of the Aliens in Silverdale: and he himself was
become learned in war and a deft leader of men.

" So the days passed and the seasons, and we lived on as
we might; but with Folk-might's return there began to grow
up in all our hearts what had long been flourishing in mine,
and that was the hope of one day winning back our own again,
and dying amidst the dear groves of Silverdale. Within these

J rears we had increased somewhat in number; for if we had
ost those warriors in the Westland, and some old men who
had died in the Dale, yet our children had grown up (I have
now seen twenty and one summers) and more were growing
up. Moreover, after the first year, from the time when we
began to fall upon the Dusky Men of Silverdale, from time
to time they who went on such adventures set free such thralls
of our blood as they could fall in with and whom they could
trust in, and they dwelt (and yet dwell) with us in the Dale:
first and last we have taken in three score and twelve of such
men, and a score of women-thralls withal.

" Now during these seasons, and not very long ago, after
I was a woman grown, the thought came to me, and to Folk-
might also, that there were kindreds of the people dwelling
anear us whom we might so deal with that they should become
116

our friends and brothers in arms, and that through them we The Hope
might win back Silverdale. ariseth

" Of Rosedale we wotted already that the Folk were
nought of our blood, feeble in the field, cowed by the Dusky
Men, and at last made thralls to them ; so nought was to do
there. But Folk-might went to and fro to gather tidings: at
whiles I with him, at whiles one or more of Wood-father's
children, who with their father and mother and Bow-may
have abided in the Vale ever since the Great Undoing.

" Soon he fell in with thy Folk, and first of all with the
Woodlanders, and that was a joy to him; for wot ye what?
He got to know that these men were the children of those
of our Folk who had sundered from us in the mountain pass-
es time long and long ago ; and he loved them, for he saw that
they were hardy and trusty, and warriors at heart.

" Then he went amongst the Shepherd-Folk, and he deem-
ed them good men easily stirred, and deemed that they might
soon be won to friendship ; and he knew that they were mostly
come from the Houses of the Woodlanders, so that they also
were of the kindred.

" And last he came into Burgdale, and found there a merry
and happy Folk, little wont to war, but stout-hearted, and
nowise puny either of body or soul; he went there often and
learned much about them, and deemed that they would not
be hard to win to fellowship. And he found that the House
of the Face was the chiefest house there; and that the Alder-
man and his sons were well beloved of all the folk, and that
they were the men to be won first, since through them should
all others be won. I also went to Burgstead with him twice,
as I told thee erst; and I saw thee, and I deemed that thou
wouldest lightly become our friend ; and it came into my mind
that I myself might wed thee, and that the House of the Face
thereby might have affinity thenceforth with the Children of
the Wolf."

He said: "Why didst thou deem thus of me, O friend?"

She laughed and said : " Dost thou long to hear me say the

117

The spells words when thou knowest my thought well? So be it. I saw
of Wood- thee both young and fair; and I knew thee to be the son of a
mother noble, worthy, guileless man and of a beauteous woman of

great wits and good rede. And I found thee to be kind and
open-handed and simple like thy father, and like thy mother
wiser than thou thyself knew ot thyself ; and that thou wert
desirous of deeds and fain of women."

She was silent for a while, and he also : then he said : " Didst
thou draw me to the woods and to thee? "

She reddened and said: " I am no spell-wife: but true it is
that Wood-mother made a waxen image of thee, and thrust
through the heart thereof the pin of my girdle-buckle, and
stroked it every morning with an oak-bough over which she
had sung spells. But dost thou not remember, Gold-mane,
how that one day last Hay-month, as ye were resting in the
meadows in the cool of the evening, there came to you a
minstrel that played to you on the fiddle, and therewith sang
a song that melted all your hearts, and that this song told of
the Wild-wood, and what was therein of desire and peril and
beguiling and death, and love unto Death itself? Dost thou
remember, friend?"

"Yea," he said, "and how when the minstrel was done
Stone-face fell to telling us more tales yet of the woodland,
and the minstrel sang again and yet again, till his tales had
entered into my very heart."

"Yea," shesaid,"and that minstrel was Wood-wont; and
I sent him to sing to thee and thine, deeming that if thou didst
hearken, thou wouldst seek the woodland and happen upon

us."

He laughed and said: "Thou didst not doubt but that if
we met, thou mightest do with me as thou wouldest? "

" So it is," she said, " that I doubted it little."

"Therein wert thou wise," said Face-of-god; "but now
that we are talking without guile to each other, mightest thou
tell me wherefore it was that Folk-might made that onslaught
upon me? For certain it is that he was minded to slay me."

She said: " It was sooth what I told thee, that whiles he
118

groweth so battle-eager that whatso edge-tool he beareth The cause of
must needs come out of the scabbard; but there was more in Folk-might's
it than that, which I could not tell thee erst. Two days before onsl aught
thycoming he had been down toBurgstead in the guise of an
old carle such as thou sawest him with me in the market-place.
There was he guested in your Hall, and once more saw thee
and the Bride together ; and he saw the eyes oflove wherewith
she looked on thee (for so much he told me), and deemed
that thou didst take her love but lightly. And he himself
looked on her with such love (and this he told me not) that
he deemed nought good enough for her, and would have had
theegivethyselrupwhollytoher;formybrotherisagenerous
man, my friend. So when I told him on the morn of that day
whereon we met that we looked to see thee that eve (for in-
deed I am somewhat foreseeing), he said: ( Look thou, Sun-
beam, if he cometh, it is not unlike that I shall drive a spear
through him.' c Wherefore?' said I; c can he serve our turn
when he is dead?' Said he: c I care little. Mine own turn will
I serve. Thou sayest Wherefore? I tell thee this stripling be-
guileth to her torment the fairest woman that is in the world
— such an one as is meet to be the mother of chieftains, and
to stand by warriors in their day of peril. I have seen her; and
thus have I seen her.* Then said I: c Greatly forsooth shalt
thou pleasure her by slaying him!' And he answered: C I
shall pleasure myself. And one day she shall thank me, when
she taketh my hand in hers and we go together to the Bride-
bed.' Therewith came over me a clear foresight of the hours
to come, and I said to him: c Yea, Folk-might, cast the spear
and draw the sword; but him thou shalt not slay: and thou
shalt one day see him standing with us before the shafts of
the Dusky Men/ So I spake; but he looked fiercely at me,
and departed and shunned me all that day, and by good hap
I was hard at hand when thou drewest nigh our abode. Nay,
Gold-mane, what wouldst thou with thy sword? Why art
thou so red and wrathful? Wouldst thou fight with my
brother because he loveth thy friend, thine old playmate, thy
kinswoman, and thinketh pity of her sorrow? "

119

Face-of-god He said, with knit brow and gleaming eyes : " Would the
*ng*7 man take her away from me perforce ? * '

" My friend," she said, "thou art not yet so wise as not to
be a fool at whiles. Is it not so that she herself hath taken her-
self from thee, since she hath come to know that thou hast
given thyself to another? Hath she noted nought of thee this
winter and spring? Is she well pleased with the ways of
thee?"

He said : " Thou hast spoken simply with me, and I will
do no less with thee. It was but four days agone that she did
me to wit that she knew of me how I sought my love on the
Mountain; and she put me to sore shame, and afterwards I
wept for her sorrow."

Therewith he told her all that the Bride had said to him,
as he well might, for he had forgotten no word of it

Then said the Friend: " She shall have the token that she
craveth, and it is I that shall give it to her."

Therewith she took from her finger a ring wherein was set
a very fair changeful mountain-stone, and gave it to him, and
said:

"Thou shalt give her this and tell her whence thou hadst
it; and tell her that I bid her remember that To-morrow is a
new day."

CHAP. XX. THOSE TWO TOGETHER HOLD
THE RING OF THE EARTH-GOD.

A ND now they fell silent both of them, and sat hearkening

/\ the sounds of the Dale, from the whistle of the plover

JL JLdown by the water-side to the far-off voices of the

children and maidens about the kine in the lower meadows.

At last Gold-mane took up the word and said:

"Sweet friend, tell me the uttermost of what thou wouldst
have of me. Is it not that I should stand by thee and thine in
the Folk-mote of the Dalesmen, and speak for you when ye
pray us for help against your foemen ; and then again that I
do my best when ye and we are arrayed for battle against the

120

Dusky Men ? This is easy to do, and great is the reward thou The Sun-

offerest me/' beam names

" I look for this serviceof thee,"she said,"and none other." hc "^

"And when I go down to the battle," said he, "shalt thou
be sorry for our sundering? "

She said: "There shall be no sundering; I shall wend with
thee."

Said he: "And if I were slain in the battle, wouldst thou
lament me?"

"Thou shalt not be slain," she said.

Again was there silence betwixt them, till at last he said:

"This then is why thou didst draw me to thee in the Wild-
wood?"

"Yea," said she.

Again for a while no word was spoken, and Face-of-god
looked on her till she cast her eyes down before him.

Then at last he spake, and the colour came and went in his
face as he said : " Tell me thy name what it is."

She said: " I am called the Sun-beam."

Then he said, and his voice trembled therewith : " O Sun-
beam, I have been seeking pleasant and cunning words, and
can find none such. But tell me this if thou wilt: dost thou
desire me as I desire thee? or is it that thou wilt suffer me to
wed thee and bed thee at last as mere payment for the help
that I shall give to thee and thine? Nay, doubt it not that I
will take the payment, if this is what thou wilt give me and
nought else. Yet tell me."

Her face grew troubled, and she said :

" Gold-mane, maybe that thou hast now asked me one
question too many; for this is no fair game to be played be-
tween us. For thee, as I deem, there are this day but two
people in the world, and that is thou and I, and the earth is
for us two alone. But, my friend, though I have seen but
twenty and one summers, it is nowise so with me, and to me
there are many in the world ; and chiefly the Folk of the Wolf,
amidst whose very heart I have grown up. Moreover, I can
think of her whom I have supplanted, the Bride to wit; and

121

The wisdom I know her, and how bitter and empty her days shall be for
of the a while, and how vain all our redes tor her shall seem to her.

Son-beam Yea, I know her sorrow, and see it and grieve for it : so canst
not thou, unless thou verily see her before thee, her face un-
happy, and her voice changed and hard. Well, I will tell thee
what thou askest. When I drew thee to me on the Mountain
I thought but of the friendship and brotherhood to be knitted
up between our two Folks, nor did I anywise desire thy love
of a young man. But when I saw thee on the heath and in the
Hall that day, it pleased me to think that a man so fair and
chieftain-like should one day lie by my side; and again when
I saw that the love of me had taken hold of thee, I would not
have thee grieved because of me, but would have thee happy.
And now what shall I say? — I know not; I cannot tell. Yet
am I the Friend, as erst I called myself.

"And, Gold-mane, I have seen hitherto but the outward
show and image of thee, and though that be goodly, how
would it be if thou didst shame me with little-heartedness'
and evil deeds? Let me see thee in the Folk-mote and the
battle, and then may I answer thee."

Then she held her peace, and he answered nothing; and
she turned her face from him and said:

" Out on it! have I beguiled myself as well as thee? These
are but empty words I have been saying. If thou wilt drag
the truth out of me, this is the very truth : that to-day is
happy to me as it is to thee, and that I have longed sore for
its coming. O Gold-mane, O speech-friend, if thou wert to
pray me or command me that I lie in thine arms to-night, I
should know not how to gainsay thee. Yet I beseech thee to
forbear, lest thy death and mine come of it. And why should
we die, O friend, when we are so young, and the world lies
so fair before us, and the happy days are at hand when the
Children of the Wolf and the kindreds of the Dale shall de-
liver the Folk, and all days shall be good and all years? M

They had both risen up as she spake, and now he put forth
his hands to her and took her in his arms, wondering the
while, as he drew her to him, how much slenderer and smaller

122

and weaker she seemed in his embrace than he had thought The lore of
of her; and when their lips met, he felt that she kissed him the Sun-
as he her. Then he held her by the shoulders at arms' length bcam
from him, and beheld her face how her eyes were closed and
her lips quivering. But before him, in a moment of time,
passed a picture of the life to be in the fair Dale, and all she
would give him there, and the days good and lovely from
morn to eve and eve to morn ; and though in that moment
it was hard for him to speak, at last he spoke in a voice hoarse
at first, and said:

" Thou sayest sooth, O friend ; we will not die, but live ; I
will not drag our deaths upon us both, nor put a sword in
the hands otFolk-might, who loves me not"

Then he kissed her on the brow and said : " Now shalt
thou take me by the hand and lead me forth from the Hall.
For the day is waxing old, and here meseemeth in this dim
hall there are words crossing in the air about us — words
spoken in days long ago, and tales of old time, that keep
egging me on to do my will and die, because that is all that
the world hath for a valiant man; and to such words I would
not hearken, for in this hour I have no will to die, nor can I
think of death/'

She took his hand and led him forth without more words, They go
and they went hand in hand and paced slowly round the ^orth from
Doom-ring, the light air breathing upon them till their faces **** Hal1
were as calm and quiet as their wont was, and hers especially
as bright and happy as when he had first seen her that day.

The sun was sinking now, and only sent one golden ray
into the valley through a cleft in the western rock-wall, but
the sky overhead was bright and clear; from the meadows
came the sound of the lowing of kine and the voices of child-
ren a-sporting, and it seemed to Gold-mane that they were
drawing nigher, both the children and the kine, and some-
what he begrudged it that he should not be alone with the
Friend.

Now when they had made half the circuit of the Doom-
ring, the Sun-beam stopped him, and then led him through

123

The troth the Ring of Stones, and brought him up to the altar which
plighted was amidst of it ; and the altar was a great black stone hewn
smooth and clean, and with the image of the Wolf carven on
the front thereof; and on its face lay the gold ring which the
priest or captain of the Folk bore on his arm between the
God and the people at all folk-motes.

So she said: "This is the altar of the God of Earth, and
often hath it been reddened by mighty men; and thereon
lieth the Ring of the Sons of the Wolf; and now it were well
that we swore troth on that ring before my brother cometh;
for now will he soon be here."

Then Gold-mane took the Ring and thrust his right hand
through it, and took her right hand in his; so that the Ring
lay on both their hands, and therewith he spake aloud :

" I am Face-of-god of the House of the Face, and I do
thee to wit, O God of the Earth, that I pledge my troth to
this woman, the Sun-beam of the Kindred of the Wolf, to
beget my offspring on her, and to live with her, and to die
with her : so help me, thou God of the Earth, and the Warrior
and the God of the Face! "

Then spake the Sun-beam: "I, the Sun-beam of the
Children of the Wolf, pledge my troth to Face-of-god to lie
in his bed and to bear his children and none other s, and to
be his speech-friend till I die: so help me the Wolf and the
Warrior and the God of the Earth! "

Then they laid the Ring on the altar again, and they kissed
each other long and sweetly, and then turned away from the
altar and departed from the Doom-ring, going hand in hand
together down the meadow, and as they went, the noise of
the kine and the children drew nearer and nearer, and pre-
sently came the whole company of them round a ness or the
rock-wall; there were some thirty little lads and lasses driv-
ing on the milch-kine, with half a score of older maids and
grown women, one of whom was Bow-may, who was lightly
and scantily clad, as one who heeds not the weather, or deems
all months midsummer.

The children came running up merrily when they saw the
124

Sun-beam, but stopped short shyly when they noted the tall Speech is
fair stranger with her. They were all strong and sturdy child- * weet
ren, and some very fair, but brown with the weather, if not to t,lem
with the sun. Bow-may came up to Gold-mane and took his
hand and greeted him kindly and said :

" So here thou art at last in Shadowy Vale ; and I hope that
thou art content therewith, and as happy as I would wish
thee to be. Well, this is the first time ; and when thou comest
the second time it may well be that the world shall be growing
better."

She held the distaff which she bore in her hand (for she
had been spinning) as if it were a spear ; her limbs were goodly
and shapely, and she trod the thick grass of the Vale with a
kind or wary firmness, as though foemen might be lurking
nearby. The Sun-beam smiled upon her kindly and said :

"That shall not fail to be, Bow-may: ye have won a new
friend to-day. But tell me, when dost thou look to see the
men here, for I was down by the water when they went away
yesterday?"

"They shall come into the Dale a little after sunset," said
Bow-may.

" Shall I abide them, my friend? " said Gold-mane, turning
to the Sun-beam.

"Yea," she said, "for what else art thou come hither ? or
art thou so pressed to depart from us? Last time we met thou
wert not so hasty to sunder."

They smiled on each other; and Bow-may looked on
them and laughed outright ; then a flush showed in her cheeks
through the tan of them, and she turned toward the children
and the other women who were busied about the milking of
the kine.

But those two sat down together on a bank amidst the
plain meadow, facing the river and the eastern rock-wall,
and the Sun-beam said:

" I am fain to speak to thee and to see thine eyes watching
me while I speak ; and now, my friend, I will tell thee some-
thing unasked which has to do with what e'en now thou

125

Needs must
the men of
Burgdale
fight

didst ask me; for I would have thee trust me wholly, and
know me for what I am. Time was I schemed and planned
for this day of betrothal ; but now I tell thee it has become no
longer needful for bringing to pass our fellowship in arms
with thy people. Yea yesterday, ere he went on a hunt, where-
of he shall tell thee, Folk-might was against it, in words
at least; and yet as one who would have it done if he might
have no part in it. So, in good sooth, this hand that lieth in
thine is the hand of a wilful woman, who desireth a man, and
would keep him for her speech-friend. Now art thou fond
and happy; yet bear in mind that there are deeds to be done,
and the troth we have just plighted must be paid for. So
hearken, I bid thee. Dost thou care to know why the wheed-
ling of thee is no longer needful to us?"

He said: "A little while ago I should have said, Yea, if
thy lips say the words. But now, O friend,* it seemeth as if
thine heart were already become a part of mine, and I feel as
if the chieftain were growing up in me and the longing for
deeds: so I say, Tell me, for I were fain to hear what touch-
eth the welfare of thy Folk and their fellowship with my
Folk ; for on that also have I set my heart ? "

She said gravely and with solemn eyes:

" What thou sayest is good : full glad am I that I have not
plighted my troth to a mere goodly lad, but rather to a chief-
tain and a warrior. Now then hearken! Since I saw thee first
in the autumn this hath happened, that the Dusky Men, in-
creasing both in numbers and insolence, have it in their hearts
to win more than Silverdale, and it is years since they have
fallen upon Rosedale and conquered it, rather by murder
than by battle, and made all men thralls there, for feeble were
the Folk thereof; and doubt it not but that they will look
into Burgdale before long. They are already abroad in the
woods, and were it not for the fear of the Wolf they would
be thicker therein, and faring wider; for we have slain many
of them, coming upon them unawares; and they know not
where we dwell, nor who we be : so they fear to spread about
over-much and pry into unknown places lest the Wolf howl
126

on them. Yet beware! for they will gather in numbers that The warriors
we may not meet, and then will they swarm into the Dale; an . d Folk -
and if ye would live your happy life that ye love so well, ye ?" ght come
must now fight for it; and in that battle must ye needs join
yourselves to us, that we may help each other. Herein have
ye nought to choose, for now with you it is no longer a thing
to talk of whether ye will help certain strangers and guests
and thereby win some gain to yourselves, but whether ye
have the hearts to fight for yourselves, and the wits to be the
fellows of tall men and stout warriors who have pledged
their lives to win or die for it"

She was silent a little and then turned and looked fondly
on Face-of-god and said:

" Therefore, Gold-mane, we need thee no longer ; for thou
must needs fight in our battle. I have no longer aught to do
to wheedle thee to love me. Yet if thou wilt love me, then am
I a glad woman."

He said : " Thou wottest well that thou hast all my love,
neither will I fail thee in the battle. I am not little-hearted,
though I would have given myself to thee for no reward."

"It is well," said the Sun-beam; " nought is undone by
that which I have done. Moreover, it is good that we have
plighted troth to-day. For Folk-might will presently hear
thereof, and he must needs abide the thing which is done.
Hearken! hecometh."

For as she spoke there came a glad cry from the women
and children, and those two stood up and turned toward the
west and beheld the warriors of the Wolf coming down into
the Dale by the way that Gold-mane had come.

"Come," said the Sun-beam, "here are your brethren in
arms; let us go greet them ; they will rejoice in thee."

So they went thither, and there stood eighty and seven
men on the grass below the scree and Folk-might their cap-
tain; and besides some valiant women, and a few carles who
were on watch on the waste, and a half score who had been
left in the Dale, these were all the warriors of the Wolf.
They were clad in no holiday raiment, not even Folk-might,

127

[Folk-might but were in sheep-brown gear of the coarsest, like to hus-
grcetcth band men late come from the plough, but armed well and

Face-of-god] gOQ( fty.

Butwhen the twain drew near, the men clashed their spears
on their shields, and cried out for joy of them, for they all
knew what Face-of-god's presence there betokened of fel-
lowship with the kindreds; but Folk-might came forward
and took Face-of-god's hand and greeted him and said:

"Hail, son of the Alderman! Here hast thou come into
the ancient abode of chieftains and warriors, and belike
deeds await thee also."

Yet his brow was knitted as he said these words, and he
spake slowly, as one that constraineth himself; but present-
ly his face cleared somewhat and he said :

<c Dalesman, it behoveth thy people to bestir them if ye
would live and see good days. Hath my sister told thee what
is toward? Or what sayest thou?"

"Hail to thee, son of the Wolf!" said Face-of-god. " Thy
sister hath told me all; and even if these Dusky Felons were
not our foemen also, yet could I have my way, we should
have given thee all help, and should have brought back peace
and good days to thy folk."

Then Folk-might flushed red and spake, as he cast out his
hand towards the warriors and up and down toward the
Dale:

"These be my folk, and these only: and as to peace, only
those of us know of it who are old men. Yet is it well; and if
we and ye together be strong enough to bring back good
days to the feeble men whom the Dusky Ones torment in
Silverdale it shall be better yet."

Then he turned about to his sister, and looked keenly in-
to her eyes till she reddened, and took her hand and looked
at the wrist and said :

"O sister, see I not the mark on thy wrist of the Ring of
the God of the Earth? Have not oaths been sworn since
yesterday?"
128

" True it is," she said, " that this man and I have plighted Folk-might
troth together at the altar of the Doom-ring." asketh of the

Said Folk-might: "Thou wilt have thy will, and I may oatl1
not amend it." Therewith he turned about to Face-of-god
and said :

" Thou must look to it to keep this oath, whatever other
one thou hast failed in."

Said Face-of-god somewhat wrathftdly : " I shall keep it,
whether thou biddest me to keep it or break it."

" That is well," said Folk-might, " and then for all that
hath gone before thou mayest in a manner pay, if thou art
dauntless before the foe."

" I look to be no blencher in the battle," said Face-of-god ;
" that is not the fashion of our kindred, whosoever may be
before us. Yea, and even were it thy blade, O mighty war-
rior of the Wolf, I would do my best to meet it in manly
fashion."

As he spake he half drew forth Dale-warden from his
sheath, looking steadily into the eyes of Folk-might; and
the Sun-beam looked upon him happily. But Folk-might
laughed and said:

" Thy sword is good, and 1 deem that thine heart will not
fail thee ; but it is by my side and not in face of me that
thou shalt redden the good blade : I see not the day when we
twain shall hew at each other."

Then in a while he spake again :

"Thou must pardon us if our words are rough; for we
have stood in rough places,where we had to speak both short
and loud, whereas there was much to do. But now will we
twain talk of matters that concern chieftains who are going
on a hard adventure. And ye women, do ye dight the Hall
for the evening feast, which shall be the feast of the troth-
light for you twain. This indeed we owe thee, O guest ; for
ittle shall be thine heritage which thou shalt have with my
sister, over and above that thy sword winneth for thee."

But the Sun-beam said: " Hast thou any to-night?"

XV. K 129

E

Countingthe "Yea," he said; <c Spear-god, how many was it?"
arm-rings There came forward a tall man bearing an axe in his right

hand, and carrying over his shoulder by his left hand a bun-
dle of silver arm-rings just such as Gold-mane had seen on
the felons who were slain by Wood-grey's house. The carle
cast them on the ground and then knelt down and fell to tell-
ing them over; and then looked up and said: "Twelve yes-
terday in the wood where the battle was going on; and this
morning seven by the tarn in the pine-wood and six near this
eastern edge of the wood : one score and five all told. But,
Folk-might, they are coming nigh to Shadowy Vale.'*

" Sooth is that," said Folk-might; "but it shall be looked
to. Come now apart with me, Face-of-god."

So the others went their ways toward the Hall, while Folk-
might led the Burgdaler to a sheltered nook under the sheer
rocks, and there they sat down to talk, and Folk-might asked
Gold-mane closely of the muster of the Dalesmen and the
Shepherds and the Woodland Carles, and he was well pleased
when Face-of-god told him of how many could march to a
stricken field, and of their archery, and of their weapons and
their goodness.

All this took some time in the telling, and now night was
coming on apace, and Folk-might said:

" Now will it be time to go to the Hall ; but keep in thy
mind that these Dusky Men will overrun you unless ye deal
with them betimes. These are of the kind that ye must cast
fear into their hearts by falling on them; for if ye abide till
they fell upon you, they are like the winter wolves that swarm
on and on, how many soever ye slay. And this above all things
shall help you, that we shall bring you whereas ye shall fell
on them unawares and destroy them as boys do with a wasp's
nest. Yet shall many a mother's son bite the dust.

"Is it not so that in four weeks' time is your spring-feast
and market at Burgstead, and thereafter the great Folk-
mote?"

"So it is," said Gold-mane.

"Thither shall I come then," said Folk-might, "and give
myself out for the slayer of Rusty and the ransacker of
130

Harts-bane and Penny-thumb; and therefor shall I offer Folk-might
good blood-wite and theft-wite; and thy father shall take speaketh
that; for he is a just man. Then shall I tell my tale. Yet it w f u, jJ acc "
may be thou shalt see us before if battle betide. And now fair ° " g
befall this new year; for soon shall the scabbards be empty
and the white swords be dancing in the air, and spears and
axes shall be the growth of this spring-tide."

And he leaped up from his seat and walked to and fro before
Gold-mane, and now was it grown quite dark. Then Folk-
might turned to Face-of-god and said :

"Come, guest, the windows of the Hall are yellow ; let us
to the feast To-morrow shalt thou get thee to the beginning
of this work. I hope of thee that thou art a good sword; else
have I done a folly and my sister a worse one. But now forget
that, and feast."

Gold-mane arose, not very well at ease, for the man seemed
overbearing; yet how might he fall upon the Sun-beam's
kindred, and the captain of these new brethren in arms? So
he spake not. But Folk-might said to him:

" Yet I would not have thee forget that I was wroth with
thee when I saw thee to-day; and had it not been for the com-
ing battle I had drawn sword upon thee."

Then Face-of-god's wrath was stirred, and he said:

"There is yet time for that! but why art thou wroth with
me? And I shall tell thee that there is little manliness in thy
chiding. For how may I fight with thee, thou the brother of
my plighted speech-friend and my captain in this battle? "

"Therein thou sayest sooth," said Folk-might; "but
hard it was to see you two standing together; and thou canst
not give the Bride to me as I give my sister to thee. For I
have seen her, and I have seen her looking at thee; and I
know that she will not have it so."

Then they went on together toward the Hall, and Face-
of-god was silent and somewhat troubled ; and as they drew
near to the Hall, Folk-might spake again:

"Yet time may amend it ; and if not, there is the battle, and
maybe the end. Now be we merry!"

So they went into the Hall together, and there was the
jc2 131

They go in-
to the Hall

Healths are
drunk and
songs sung

Sun-beam gloriously arrayed, as erst in the woodland
bower, and Face-of-god sat on the dais beside her, and the
uttermost sweetness of desire entered into his soul as he
noted her eyes and her mouth, that were grown so kind to
him, and her hand that strayed toward his.

The Hall was full of folk, and all those warriors were there
with Wood-father and his sons, and Wood-mother, and
Bow-may and many other women ; and Gold-mane looked
down the Hall and deemed that he had never seen such stal-
warth bodies of men, or so bold and meet for battle : as for the
women he had seen fairer in Burgdale, but these were fair of
their own fashion, shapely and well-knit, and strong-armed
and large-limbed, yet sweet-voiced and gentle withal. Nay,
the very lads of fifteen winters or so, whereof a few were
there, seemed bold and bright-eyed and keen of wit, and it
seemed like that if the warriors fared afield these would be
with them.

So wore the feast; and Folk-might as aforetime amongst
the healths called on men to drink to the Jaws of the Wolf,
and the Red Hand, and the Silver Arm, and the Golden
Bushel, and the Ragged Sword. But now had Face-of-god
no need to ask what these meant, since he knew that they
were the names of the kindreds of the Wolf. They drank also
to the troth-plight and to those twain, and shouted aloud
over the health and clashed their weapons: and Gold-mane
wondered what echo of that shout would reach to Burgstead.

Then sang men songs of old time, and amongst them
Wood-wont stood with his fiddle amidst the Hall and
Bow-may beside him, and they sang in turn to it sweetly
and clearly; and this is some of what they sang:

SHE SINGETH.

Wild is the waste and long leagues over ;

Whither then wend ye spear and sword,
Where nought shall see your helms but the plover,

Far and far from the dear Dale's sward?

132

HE SINGETH. The

Many a league shall we wend together Maiden's

With helm and spear and bended bow. Lifting

Hark! how the wind blows up for weather:

Dark shall the night be whither we go.

Dark shall the night be round the byre.

And dark as we drive the brindled kine;
Dark and dark round the beacon-fire,

Dark down in the pass round our wavering line.

Turn on thy path, O fair-foot maiden,

And come our ways by the pathless road;
Look how the clouds hang low and laden

Over the walls of the old abode!

SHE SINGETH.
Bare are my feet for the rough waste's wending,

Wild is the wind, and my kirtle's thin ;
Faint shall I be ere the long way's ending

Drops down to the Dale and the grief therein.

HE SINGETH.
Do on the brogues of the wild-wood rover,

Do on the byrnies' ring-close mail ;
Take thou the staff that the barbs hang over,

O'er the wind and the waste and the way to prevail.

Come, for how from thee shall I sunder?

Come, that a tale may arise in the land;
Come, that the night be held for a wonder,

When the Wolf was led by a maiden's hand!

SHE SINGETH,
Now will I fare as ye are faring,

And wend no way but the way ye wend ;
And bear but the burdens ye are bearing,

And end the day as ye shall end.

'33

Folk-might
tcllcth
Facc-of-god
of the way

And many an eve when the clouds are drifting
Down through the Dale till they dim the roof,

Shall they tell in the Hall of the Maiden's Lifting,
And how we drave the spoil aloof.

THEY SING TOGETHER.
Over the moss through the wind and the weather,

Through the morn and the eve and the death of the day,
Wend we man and maid together,

For out of the waste is born the fray.

Then the Sun-beam spake to Gold-mane softly, and told
him how this song was made by a minstrel concerning a foray
in the early days of their first abode in Shadowy Vale, and how
in good sooth a maiden led the fray and was the captain of the
warriors:

"Erst," she said, "this was counted as a wonder; but now
we are so few that it is no wonder though the women will do
whatsoever they may."

So they talked, and Gold-mane was very happy; but ere
the good-night cup was drunk, Folk-might spake to Face-of-
god and said:

"It were well that ye rose betimes in the morning: but
thou shalt not go back by the way thou earnest. Wood-wise
and another shall go with thee, and show thee a way across
the necks and the heaths, which is rough enough as far as toil
goes, but where thy life shall be safer; and thereby shalt thou
hit the ghyll of the Weltering Water, and so come down
safely into Burgdale. Now that we are friends and fellows, it
is no hurt for thee to know the shortest way to Shadowy Vale.
What thou shalt tell concerning us in Burgdale I leave the
tale thereof to thee; yet belike thou wilt not tell everything
till I come toBurgsteadatthe springmarket-tide. Now must
1 presently to bed; for before daylight to-morrow must I be
following the hunt along with two score good men of ours."

" What beast is afield then? " said Gold-mane.

Said Folk-might: "The beasts that beset our lives, the

*34

Dusky Men. In these days we have learned how to find com- Of the
panies of them ; and forsooth every week they draw nigher Silvcrdale
to this Dale; and some day they should happen upon us if thralls
we were not to look to it, and then would there be a murder
great and grim ; therefore we scour the heaths round about,
and the skirts of the woodland, and we fall upon these felons
in divers guises, so that they may not know us for the same
men ; whiles are we clad in homespun, as to-day, and seem
like to field-working carles; whiles in scarlet and gold, like
knights of the Westland ; whiles in wolf-skins ; whiles in white
glittering gear, like theWights of the Waste : and in all guises
these felons, for all their fierce hearts, fear us, and flee from
us, and we follow and slay them, and so minish their numbers
somewhat against the great day of battle."

"Tell me," said Gold-mane; "when we fall upon Silver-
dale shall their thralls, the old Dale-dwellers, fight for them
or for us?"

Said Folk-might: "The Dusky Men will not dare to put
weapons into the hands of their thralls. Nay, the thralls shall
help us ; for though they have but small stomach for the fight,
yet j oyfully when the fight is over shall they cut their masters'
throats."

"How is it with these thralls? " said Gold-mane. "1 have
never seen a thrall."

"But I," said Folk-might, "have seen a many down in the
Cities. And there were thralls who were the tyrants of thralls,
and held the whip over them; and of the others there were
some who were not very hardly entreated. But with these it
is otherwise, and they all bear grievous pains daily; for the
Dusky Men are as hogs in a garden of lilies. Whatsoever is
fair there have they denied and deflowered, and they wallow
in our fair halls as swine strayed from the dunghill. No de-
light in life, no sweet days do they have for themselves, and
they begrudge the delight of others therein. Therefore their
thralls know no rest or solace; their reward of toil is many
stripes, and the healing of their stripes grievous toiLTo many
have they appointed to dig and mine in the silver-yielding

135

The cliffs, and of all the tasks is that the sorest, and there do stripes

sleeping-cup abound the most. Such thralls art thou happy not to behold

till thou hast set them free; as we shall do.'

"Tell me again," said Face-of-god ; "is there no mixedfolk
between these Dusky Men and the Dalesmen, since they have
no women of their own, but lie with the women of the Dale?
Moreover, do not the poor folk of the Dale beget and bear
children, so that there are thralls born of thralls r"

"Wisely thou askest this," said Folk-might, "but there-
of shall I tell thee, that when a Dusky Carle mingles with a
woman of the Dale, the child which she beareth shall oftenest
favour his race and not hers; or else shall it be witless, a fool
natural. But as for the children of these poor thralls; yea, the
masters cause them to breed if so their masterships will, and
when the children are born, they keep them or slay them as
they will, as they would with whelps or calves. To be short,
year by year these vile wretches grow fiercer and more
beastly, and their thralls more hapless and down-trodden ;
and now at last is come the time either to do or to die, as ye
men of Burgdale shall speedily find out. But now must I go
sleep if I am to be where! look to be at sunrise to-morrow.'*

Therewith he called for the sleeping-cup, and it was
drunk, and all men fared to bed. But the Sun-beam took
Gold-mane's hand ere they parted, and said:

" I shall arise betimes on the morrow ; so I say not farewell
to-night; yea, and after to-morrow it shall not be long ere
we meet again."

So Gold-mane lay down in that ancient hall, and it seemed
to him ere he slept as if his own kindred were slipping away
from him and he were becoming a child of the Wolf. "And
yet," said he to himself, " I am become a man ; for my Friend,
now she no longer telleth me to do or forbear, and I tremble.
Nay, rather she is fain to take the word from me; and this
great warrior and ripe man, he talketh with me as if I were a
chieftain meet for converse with chieftains. Even so it is and
shall be."

And soon thereafter he fell asleep in the Hall in Shadowy
Vale.

*3 6

CHAPTER XXI. FACE-OF-GOD LOOKETH ON
THE DUSKY MEN.

WHEN he awoke again he saw a man standing over Morningand
him, and knew him for Wood -wise : he was dad in departure
his war-gear, and had his quiver at his back and his comc
bow in his hand, tor Wood-father's children were all good
bowmen, though not so sure as Bow-may. He spake to Face-
of-god :

"Dawn is in the sky, Dalesman; there is yet time for thee
to wash the night off of thee in our bath of the Shivering
Flood and to put thy mouth to the milk-bowl; but time for
nought else: for I and Bow-may are appointed thy fellows
for the road, and it were well that we were back home
speedily."

So Face-of-god leapt up and went forth from the Hall,
and Wood-wise led to where was a pool in the river with
steps cut down to it in the rocky bank.

"This," said Wood-wise, "is the Carles' Bath; but the
Queens' is lower down, where the water is wider and shal-
lower below the little mid-dale force."

So Gold-mane stripped off his raiment and leapt into the
ice-cold pool ; and they had brought his weapons and war-
gear with them ; so when he came out he clad and armed him-
self for the road, and then turned with Wood-wise toward
the outgate of the Dale; and soon they saw two men coming
from lower down the water in such wise that they would
presently cross their path, and as yet it was little more than
twilight, so that they saw not at first who they were, but as
they drew nearer they knew them for the Sun-beam and
Bow-may. The Sun-beam was clad but in her white linen
smock and blue gown as he had first seen her ; her hair was
wet and dripping with the river, her face fresh and rosy : she
carried in her two hands a great bowl of milk, and stepped
delicately,lest she should spill it.But Bow-may was clad in her
war-gear with helm and byrny,and a quiver at her back, and
a bended bow in her hand. So they greeted each other kindly,
and the Sun-beam gave the bowl to Face-of-god and said:

'37

The Sun- "Drink, guest, for thou hast a long and thirsty road be-

beam abroad fore thee."

betimes g Q F ace -of-go(j drank, and gave her the bowl back again,

and she smiled on him and drank, and the others after her
till the bowl was empty: then Bow-may put her hand on
Wood-wise's shoulder, and they led on toward the outgate,
while those twain followed them hand in hand. But the Sun-
beam said:

"This then is the new day I spoke of, and lo! it bringeth
our sundering with it; yet shall it be no longer than a day
when all is said, and new days shall follow after. And now,
my friend, I shall see thee no later than the April market;
for doubt not that I shall go thither with Folk-might,whether
he will or not. Also as I led thee out of the house when we
last met, so shall I lead thee out of the Dale to-day, and I will
go with thee a little way on the waste ; and therefore am I
shod this morning, as thou seest, for the ways on the waste
are rough. And now I bid thee have courage while my hand
holdeth thine. For afterwards I need not bid thee anything;
for thou wilt have enough to do when thou comest to thy
Folk, and must needs think more of warriors then than of
maidens."

He looked at her and longed for her, but said soberly:
"Thou art kind, O friend, and thinkest kindly of me ever.
But methinks it were not well done for thee to wend with
me over a deal of the waste, and come back by thyself alone,
when ye have so many foemen nearby."

" Nay," she said, " they be nought so near as that yet, and
I wot that Folk-might hath gone forth toward the north-
west, where he looketh to fill in with a company of the
foemen. His battle shall be a guard unto us."

" I pray thee turn back at the top of the outgate," said he,
" and be not venturesome. Thou wottest that the pitcher is
not broken the first time it goeth to the well, nor maybe the
twentieth, but at last it cometh not back."

She said: " Nevertheless I shall have mvwill herein. And
it is but a little way I will wend with thee.

138

Therewith were they come to the scree, and talk fell down Peace amidst
between them as they clomb it; but when they were in the of war
darksome passage of the rocks, and could scarce see one
another, Face-oNgod said:

"Where then is another outgate from the Dale? Is it not
up the water?"

"Yea," she said, "and there is none other: at the lower
end the rocks rise sheer from out the water, and a little fur-
ther down is a great force thundering betwixt them ; so that
by no boat or raft may ye come out of the Dale. But the out-
gate up the water is called the Road of War, as this is named
the Path of Peace. But now are all ways ways of war."

"There is peace in my heart," said Gold-mane.

She answered not for a while, but pressed his hand, and
he felt her breath on his cheek; and even therewithal they
came out of the dark, and Gold-mane saw that her cheek
was flushed; and now she spake:

" One thing would I say to thee, my friend. Thou hast
seen me amongst men of war, amongst outlaws who seek
violence; thou hast heard me bid my brother to count the
slain, and I shrinking not; thou knowest (for I have told thee)
how I have schemed and schemed for victorious battle. Yet
I would not have thee think of me as a Chooser of the Slain,
a warrior maiden, or as of one who hath no joy save in the
battle whereto she biddeth others. O friend, the many peace-
ful hours that I have had on the grass down yonder, sitting
with my rock and spindle in hand, the children roundabout
my knees hearkening to some old story so well remembered
by me! or the milking of the kine in the dewy summer even,
when all was still but for the voice of the water and the cries
of the happy children, and there round about me were the
dear and beauteous maidens with whom I had grown up,
happy amidst all our troubles, since their life was free and
they knew no guile. In such times my heart was at peace in-
deed, and it seemed to me as if we had won all we needed; as
if war and turmoil were over, after they had brought about
peace and good days for our little folk.

*39

Face-of-god " And as for the days that be, are they not as that rugged

tcllcth of the passjfull of bitter winds and the voice of hurrying waters, that

IT* d°f leadeth yonder to Silverdale, as thou hast divined ? and there

urg e is nought good in it save that the breath of life is therein, and

that it leadeth to pleasant places and the peace and plenty of

the fair dale."

" Sweet friend," he said, "what thou sayest is better than
well : for time shall be, if we come alive out of this pass of
battle and bitter strife, when I shall lead thee into Burgdale
to dwell there. And thou wottest of our people that there is
little strife and grudging amongst them, and that they are
merry, and fair tolook on, both men and women ; and no man
there lacketh what the earth may give us, and it is a saying
amongst us that there may a man have that which he desiretn
save the sun and moon in his hands to play with : and of this
gladness, which is made up of many little matters, what story
may be told? Yet amongst it shall I live and thou with me;
and ill indeed it were if it wearied thee and thou wert ever
longing for some day of victorious strife, and to behold me
coming back from battle high-raised on the shields of men
and crowned with bay; if thine ears must ever be tickled with
the talk of men and their songsconcerningmy warriordeeds.
For thus it shall not be. When I drive the herds it shall be at
the neighbours' bidding whereso they will ; not necks of men
shall I smite, but the stalks of the tall wheat, and the boles
of the timber-trees which the woodreeve hath marked for
felling; the stilts of the plough rather than the hilts of the
sword shall harden my hands ; my shafts shall be for the deer,
and my spears for the wood-boar, till war and sorrow fall
upon us, and I fight for the ceasing of war and trouble. And
though I be called a chief and of the blood of chiefs, yet shall
I not be masterful to the goodman of the Dale, but rather to
my hound; for my chieftainship shall be that I shall be well
beloved and trusted, and that no man shall grudge against
me. Canst thou learn to love such a life, which to me seemeth
lovely ? And thou ? of whom I say that thou art as if thou wert
come down from the golden chairs of theBurgof theGods."
140

They were well-nigh out of the steep path by now, and the They come
daylight was bright about them; there she stayed her feet a out of
moment and turned to him and said : Shadowy

" All this should I love even now, if the grief of our Folk
were but healed, and hereafter shall I learn yet more of thy
well-beloved face."

Therewith she laid her face to his and kissed him fondly,
and put his hand to her side and held it there, saying: " Soon
shall we be one in body and in soul."

And he laughed with joy and pride of life, and took her
hand and led her on again, and said :

" Yet feel the cold rings of my hauberk, my friend ; look at
the spears that cumber my hand, and at Dale-warden hanging
by my side. Thou shalt yet see me as the Slain's Chooser
would see her speech-friend ; for there is much to do ere We
win wheat-harvest in Burgdale."

Therewith they stepped together on to the level ground
of the waste, and saw Bow-may sitting on a stone hard by,
and Wood-wise standing beside her bending his bow. Bow-
may smiled on Gold-mane and rose up, and they all went on
together, turning so that they went nearly alongside the wall
orthe Vale, but westering a little ; then Sun-beam said :

" Many a time have I trodden this heath alongside our
rock- wall jforif ye wendalittle further as our faces are turned,
ye come to the crags over the place where the Shivering Flood
goeth out of Shadowy Vale.There when ye have clomb a little
mayst thou stand on the edge of the rock-wall, and look
down and behold the Flood swirling and eddying in the black
gorge of the rocks, and see presently the reek of the force go
up, and hear the thunder of the waters as they pour over it:
and all this about us now is as the garden of our house — is it
not so, Bow- may ?"

" Yea," said she, "and there are goodly cluster-berries to
be gotten hereabout in the autumn; many a time have the
Sun-beam and I reddened our lips with them. Yet is it best
to be wary when war is abroad and hot withal."

"Yea," said the Sun-beam, "and all this place comes into

141

The Wolf- the story of our House : lo ! Gold-mane, two score paces be-

whoop f ore us a little on our right hand those five grey stones. They

are called the Rocks of the Elders: for there in the first days

of our abiding in Shadowy Vale the Elders were wont to come

together to talk privily upon our matters."

Face-of-god looked thither as she spoke, but therewith
saw Bow-may, who went on the left hand of the Sun-beam,
as Face-of-god on her right hand, notch a shaft on her bent
bow, and Wood-wise, who was on his right hand, saw it also
and did the like, and therewithal Face-of-god got his target
on to his arm, and even as he did so Bow-may cried out sud-
denly:

"Yea, yea! Cast thyself on to the ground, Sun-beam!
Gold-mane, targe and spear, targe and spear! For I see steel
gleaming yonder out from behind the Elders' Rocks."

Scarce were the words out of her mouth ere three shafts
came flying, and the bow-strings twanged. Gold-mane felt
that one smote his helm and glanced from it. Therewithal he
saw the Sun-beam fall to earth, though he knew not if she had
but cast herself down as Bow-may bade. Bow-may's string
twanged at once, anda yell came from the foemen : but Wood-
wise loosed not, but set his hand to his mouth and gave a
loud wild cry — Ha! ha! ha! ha! How-ow-ow! — ending in a
long and exceeding great whoop like nought but the wolfs
howl. Now Gold-mane thinking swiftly,in a moment of time,
as war-meet men do, judged that if the Sun-beam were hurt
(and she had made no cry), it were yet wiser to fall on the foe
before turning to tend her, or else all might be lost; so he
rushed forward spear in hand and target on arm, and saw, as
he opened up the flank of the Elders' Rocks, six men, where-
of one leaned aback on the rock with Bow-may's shaft in his
shoulder, and two others were just in act of loosing at him.
In a moment, as he rushed at them, one shaft went whistling
by him, and the other glanced from off his target; he cast a
spear as he bounded on, and saw it smite one ofthe shooters
full in the naked face, and saw the blood spout out and change
his face and the man roll over, and then in another moment
142

four men were hewing at him with their short steel axes. He Onslaught
thrust out his target against them, and then let the weight of and victory
his body come on his other spear, and drave it through the
second shooter's throat, and even therewith was smitten on
the helm so hard that, though the Alderman's work held out,
he fell to his knees, holding his target over his head and
striving to draw forth Dale-warden; in that nick of time a
shaft whistled close by his ear, and as he rose to his feet again
he saw his foeman rolling over and over, clutching at the
ling with both hands. Then rang out again the terrible wolf-
whoop from Wood-wise's mouth, and both he and Bow-may
loosed a shaft, for the two other foes had turned their backs
and were fleeing fast. Again Bow-may hit the clout, and the
Dusky Man fell dead at once, but Wood-wise's arrow flew
over the felon's shoulder as he ran. Then in a trice was Gold-
mane bounding after him like the hare just roused from her
form; for it came into his head that these felons had beheld
them coming up out of the Vale, and that if even this one
man escaped, he would bring his^ompany down upon the
Vale-dwellers.

Strong and light-foot as any was Face-of-god, and though
he was cumbered with his hauberk, yet was Iron-face's handi-
work far lighter than the war-coat of the Dusky Man, and
the race was soon over. The felon turned breathless to meet
Gold-mane, who drave his target against him and cast him to
earth, and as he strove to rise smote off his head at one stroke ;
for Dale-warden was a good sword and the Dalesman as fierce
of mood as might be. There he let the felon lie, and, turning,
walked back swiftly toward the Elders' Rocks, and found
there Wood-wise and the dead foemen, for the carle had slain
the wounded, and he was now drawing the silver arm-rings
off the slain men; for all these Dusky Felons bore silver arm-
rings. But Bow-may was walking towards the Sun-beam, and
thitherward followed Gold-mane speedily.

He found her sitting on a tussock of grass close by where
she had fallen, her face pale, her eyes eager and gleaming ; she
looked up at him as he drew nigher and said:

143

The Sun- " Friend, art thou hurt ? "

bcamhath "Nay," he said, "and thou? Thou art pale."

been afraid ccj ^mnot hurt,"she said. Then she smiledand saidagain:

"Did I not tell thee that I am no warrior like Bow-may here?
Such deeds make maidens pale."

Said Bow-may : "If ye will have the truth, Gold-mane, she
is not wont to grow pale when battle is nigh her. Look you,
she hath had the gift of a new delight, and findeth it sweeter
and softer than she had any thought of; and now hath she
feared lest it should be taken from her."

"Bow-may saith but the sooth,"said the Sun-beam simply,
"and kind it is of her to say it. I saw thee, Bow-may, and good
was thy shooting, and I love thee for it."

Said Bow-may: "I never shoot otherwise than well. But
those idle shooters of the Dusky Ones, whereabouts nigh to
thee went their shafts?"

Said the Sun-beam : " One j ust lifted the hair by my left ear,
and that was not so ill-aimed; as for the other, it pierced my
raiment by my right knee, and pinned me to the earth, so that
I totterea and fell, and my gown and smock are grievously
wounded, both of them."

And she took the folds of the garments in her hands to show
the rents therein ; and her colour was come again, and she was
glad.

" What were best to do now? " she said.

Said Face-of-god: " Let us tarry a little; for some of thy
carles shall surely come up from the Vale: because they will
have heard Wood-wise's whoop, since the wind sets that
way."

" Yea, they will come," said the Sun-beam.

"Good is that," said Face-of-god ; "for they shall take the

dead felons and cast them where they be not seen if perchance

any more stray hereby. For if they wind them, they may well

happen on the path down to the Vale. Also, my friend, it were

well if thou wert to bid a good few of the carles that are in the

Vale to keep watch and ward about here, lest there be more

foemen wandering about the waste."

She said: "Thou art wise in war, Gold-mane; I will do as
144

thou biddest me. But soothly this is a perilous thing that the Men come
Dusky Men are gotten so close to the Vale. " U P &° m &*

Said Face-of-god : " This will Folk-might look to when he Valc
cometh home; and it is most like that he will deem it good to
fall on them somewhere a good way aloof, so as to draw them
offfrom wandering over the waste. Also I will do my best to
busy them when I am home in Burgdale."

Therewith came up Wood-wise, and fell to talk with
them; and his mind it was that these foemen were but a band
of stray ers, and had had no inkling of Shadowy Vale till they
had heard them talking together as they came up the path
from the Vale, and that then they had made that ambush
behind the Elders' Rocks, so that they might slay the men,
and then bear off the woman. He said withal that it would be
best to carry their corpses further on, so that they might be
cast over the cliffs into the fierce stream of the Shivering
Flood.

Amidst this talk came up men from the Vale, a score of
them, well armed; and they ran to meet the wayfarers; and
when they heard what had befallen, they rejoiced exceed-
ingly, and were above all glad that Face-of-god had shown
himself doughty and deft ; and they deemed his rede wise, to
set a watch thereabouts till Folk-might came home, and said
that they would do even so.

Then spake the Sun-beam and said :

" Now must ye wayfarers depart ; for the road is but rough,
and the day not over-long."

Then she turned to Face-of-god and put her hand on his
shoulder, and brought her face dose to his and spake to him
softly : " Doth this second parting seem at all strange to thee,
and that I am now so familiar to thee, I whom thou didst
once deem to be a very goddess ? And now thou hast seen me
redden before thine eyes because of thee; and thou hast seen
me grow pale with fear because of thee ; and thou hast felt my
caresses which I might not refrain; even as if I were altoge-
ther such a maiden as ye warriors hang about for a nine days'
wonder, and then all is over save an aching heart — wilt thou
do so with me? Tell me, have I not belittled myself before
xv. l 145

They kiss
together
before the
folk

Departure
from
Shadowy
Vale

thee as if I asked thee to scorn me? For thus desire dealeth
both with maid and man."

He said: " In all this there is but one thing for me to say,
and that is that I love thee; and surely none the less, but
rather the more, because thou lovestme, and art of my kind,
and mayest share in my deeds and think well of them. Now
is my heart full of joy, and one thing only weigheth on it;
and that is that my kinswoman the Bride begrudgeth our
love together. For this is the thing that of all things most
misliketh me, that any should bear a grudge against me."

She said : " Forget not the token, and my message to her."

" I will not forget it," said he. "And now I bid thee to kiss
me even before all these that are looking on; for there is
nought to belittle us therein, since we be troth-plight."

And indeed those folk stood all round about them gazing
on them, but a little aloof, that they might not hear their
words if they were minded to talk privily. For they had long
loved the Sun-beam, and now the love of Face-of-god had
begun to spring up in their hearts.

So the twain embraced and kissed one another, and made
no haste thereover; and those men deemed that but meet
and right, and clashed their weapons on their shields in token
oftheirjoy.

Then Face-ot-god turned about and strode out of the ring
of men, with Bow-may and Wood-wise beside himj and they
went on their journey over the necks towards Burgstead.
But the Sun-beam turned slowly from that place toward the
Vale, and two of the stoutest carles went along with her to
guard her from harm, and she went down into the Vale pon-
dering all these things in her heart.

Then the other carles dragged off the corpses of the Dusky
Men till they had brought them to the sheer rocks above the
Shivering Flood, and there they tossed them over into the
boiling caldron of the force, and so departed, taking with
them the silver arm-rings of the slain to add to the tale.

But when they came back into the Vale the Sun-beam duly
ordered that watch and ward to keep the ingate thereto, and
note all that should befall till Folk-might came home.
146

CHAP. XXII. FACE-OF-GOD COMETH HOME
TO BURGSTEAD.

BUT Face-of-god with Bow-may and Wood-wise fared A rest in the
over the waste, going at first alongside the cliffs of the Wilderness
Shivering Flood, and then afterwards turning some-
what to the west. They soon had to climb a very high and
steep bent going up to a mountain-neck ; and the way over
the neck was rough indeed when they were on it, and they
toiled out of it into a barren valley, and out of the valley
again on to a rough neck; and such-like was their journey
the day long, for they were going athwart all those great
dykes that went from the ice-mountains toward the lower
dales like the outspread fingers of a hand or the roots of a
great tree. And the ice-mountains they had on their left
hands and whiles at their backs.

They went very warily, with their bows bended and spear
in hand, but saw no man, good or bad, and but few living
things. At noon they rested in a valley where was a stream,
but no grass, nought but stones and sand; but where they
were at least sheltered from the wind, which was mostly very
great in these high wastes ; and there Bow-may drew meat and
winefromawalletshebore,andtheyate and drank, and were
merry enough ; and Bow-may said :

" I would I were going all the way with thee, Gold-mane;
for I long sore to let my eyes rest a while on the land where I
shall one day live."

"Yea," said Face-of-god, "art thou minded to dwell
there? We shall be glad of that."

"Whither are thy wits straying?" said she; "whether I
am minded to it or not, I shall dwell there."

And Wood-wise nodded a yea to her. But Face-of-god
said: "Good will be thy dwelling; but wherefore must it be
so?"

Then Wood-wise laughed and said: "I shall tell thee in
fewer words than she will, and time presses now: Wood-
father and Wood-mother, and I and my two brethren and
this woman have ever been about and anigh the Sun-beam;
L2 147

They come and we deem that war and other troubles have made us of

t0 * c w *" c l° ser kin *° ker *h an we were horn, whether ye call it bro-
tenng Water therhood or what not, and never shall we sunder from her in

life or in death. So when thou goest to Burgdale with her,
there shall we be/'

Then was Face-of-god glad when he found that they
deemed his wedding so settled and sure; but Wood-wise fell
to making ready for the road. And Face-of-god said to him :

"Tell me one thing, Wood-wise; that whoop that thou
gavest forth when we were at handy-strokes e'en now — is it
but a cry of thine own or is it of thy Folk, and shall I hear it
again?"

"Thou may st look to hear it many a time," said Wood-
wise, "for it is the cry of the Wolf. Seldom indeed hath battle
been j oined where men of our blood are, but that cry is given
forth. Come now, to the road! "

So they went their ways and the road worsened upon them,
and toilsome was the climbing up steep bents and the scal-
ing of doubtful paths in the Jiff-sides, so that the journey,
though the distance of it were not so long to the fowl flying,
was much eked out for them, and it was not till near night-
fall that they came on theghyll of the Weltering Water some
six miles above Burgstead. Forsooth Wood-wise said that
the way might be made less toilsome though far longer by
turning back eastward a little past the vale where they had
rested at midday; and that seemed good to Gold-mane, in
case they should be wending hereafter in a great company
between Burgdale and Shadowy Vale.

But now those two went with Face-of-god down a path in
the side of the cliff whereby him-seemed he had gone before;
and they came down into the ghyll and sat down together on
a stone by the water-side, and Face-of-god spake to them
kindly, for he deemed them good and trusty faring-fellows.

"Bow-may," said he, "thou saidst a while ago that thou

wouldst be fain to look on Burgdale ; and indeed it is fair and

lovely, and ye may soon be in it if ye will. Ye shall both be

more than welcome to the house of my father,and heartily I

148

bid you thither. For night is on us, and the way back is long Face-of-god
and toilsome and beset with peril. Sister Bow-may, thou wot- promiseth
test that it would be a sore grief to me if thou earnest to any * lfts
harm, and thou also, fellow Wood-wise. Daylight is a good
faring-fellow over the waste."

Said Bow-may: "Thou art kind, Gold-mane, and that is
thy wont, I know; and fain were I to-night of the candles in
thine hall. But we may not tarry; for thou wottest how busy
we be at home; and Sun-beam needeth me, if it were only to
make her sure that no Dusky Man is bearing off thine head
by its lovely locks. Neither shall we journey in the mirk
night; for look you, the moon yonder. '

"Well," said Face-of-god, "parting is ill at the best, and
I would I could give you twain a gift, and especially to thee,
my sister Bow-may."

Said Wood-wise: "Thou mayst well do that; or at least
promise the gift; and that is all one as if we held it in our
hands."

"Yea," said Bow-may," Wood-wise and I have been think-
ing in one way belike; and I was at point to ask a gift of thee."

"What is it?" said Gold-mane. "Surely it is thine, if it
were but a guerdon for thy good shooting."

She laughed and handled the skirts of his hauberk as she
said : " Show us the dint in thine helm that the steel axe made
this morning."

"There is no such great dint,"said he; "my father forged
that helm, and his work is better than good."

"Yea," said Bow-may, "and might I have hauberk and
helm of his handiwork, and Wood-wise a good sword of the
same, then were I a glad woman, and th is man a happy carle. ' 9

Said Gold-mane: " I am well pleased at thine asking, and
so shall Iron-face be when he heareth of thine archery; and
how that Hall-face were now his only son but for thy close
shooting. But now must I to the way; for my heart tells me
that there may have been tidings in Burgstead this while I
have been aloof."

So they rose all three, and Bow-may said:

149

[Foes by the "Thou art a kind brother, and soon shall we meet again ;

Water] an d that will be well."

Then he put his hands on her shoulders and kissed both
her cheeks ; and he kissed Wood-wise, and turned and went
his ways, threading the stony tangle about the Weltering
Water, which was now at middle height, and running clear
and strong; so turning once he beheld Wood-wise and Bow-
may climbing the path up the side of the ghyll, and Bow-may
turned to him also and waved her bow as token of farewell.
Then he went upon his way, which was rough enough to fol-
low by night, though the moon was shining brightly high
aloft. Yet as he knew his road he made but little of it all, and
in somewhat more than an hour and a half was come out of
the pass into the broken ground at the head of the Dale, and
began to make his way speedily under the bright moonlight
toward the Gate, still going close by the water. But as he went
he heard of a sudden cries and rumour not far from him, un-
wonted in that place, where none dwelt, and where the only
folk he might look to see were those who cast an angle into
the pools and eddies of the Water. Moreover, he saw about
the place whence came the cries torches moving swiftly hither
and thither; so that he looked to hear of new tidings, and
stayed his feet and looked keenly about him on every side;
and just then, between his rough path and the shimmer of the
dancing moonlit water, he saw the moon smite on something
gleaming; so, as quietly as he could, he got his target on his
arm, and shortened his spear in his right hand, and then turn-
ed sharply toward that gleam. Even therewith up sprang a
man on his right hand, and then another in front of him just
betwixt him and the water ; an axe gleamed bright in the moon,
and he caught a great stroke on his target, and therewith drave
his left shoulder straight forward, so that the man before him
fell over into the water with a mighty splash; for they were at
the very edge of the deepest eddy of the Water . Then he spun
round on his heel, heeding not that another stroke had fallen
on hisright shoulder, yet ill-aimed, and not with the full edge,
so that it ran down his byrny and rent it not. So he sent the
150

thrust of his spear crashing through the face and skull of the The Hue
smiter, and looked not to him as he fell, but stood still, bran- and Cj 7
dishing his spear and crying out, " For the Burg and the Face I
For the Burg and the Face I "

No other foe came against him, but like to the echo of his
cry rose a clear shout not far aloof, " For the Face,for the Face I
For the Burg and the Face I " He muttered, "So ends the day
as it begun," and shouted loud again, " For the Burg and the
Face! " And in a minute more came breaking forth from the
stone-heaps into the moonlit space before the water the tall
shapes of the men of Burgstead, the red torchlight and the
moonlight flashing back from their war-gear and weapons;
for every man had his sword or spear in hand.

Hall-face was the first of them, and he threw his arms about
his brother and said: "Well met, Gold-mane, though thou
comest amongst us like Stone-fist of the Mountain. Art thou
hurt? With whom hast thou dealt? Where be they? Whence
comest thou?"

" Nay, I am not hurt," said Face-of-god. " Stint thy ques-
tions then, till thou hast told me whom thou seekest with
spear and sword and candle."

"Two felons were they," said Hall-face, " even such as ye
saw lying dead at Wood-grey's the other day."

"Then may ye sheathe your swords and go home," said
Gold-mane, " for one lieth at the bottom of the eddy, and the
other, thy feet are well-nigh treading on him, Hall-face."

Then arose a rumour of praise and victory, and they
brought the torches nigh and looked at the fallen man, and
found that he was stark dead; so they even let him lie there
till the morrow,and all turned about toward theThorp; and
many looked on Face-of-god and wondered concerning him,
whence he was and what had befallen him. Indeed, they would
have asked him thereof, but could not get at him to ask; but
whoso could, went as nigh to Hall-face and him as they might,
to hearken to the talk between the brothers.

So as they went along Hall-face did verily ask him whence
he came : " For was it not so," said he, " that thou didst enter

They know into the wood seeking some adventure early in the morning

not Shadowy the day before yesterday?"

Valc " Sooth is that," said Face-of-god,"and I came to Shadowy

Vale, and thence am I come this morning."

Said Hall-face: " I know not Shadowy Vale, nor doth any
of us. This is a new word. How say ye, friends, doth any
man here know of Shadowy Vale? "
They all said, "Nay."

Then said Hall-face: "Hast thou been amongst mere
ghosts and marvels, brother, or cometh this tale of thy min-
strelsy?"

TwoTalesto " For all your words," said Gold-mane, <c to that Vale have

be told I been ; and, to speak shortly (fori desire to have your tale,and

am waiting for it), I will tell thee that I found there no mar-
vels or strange wights, but a folk of valiant men; a folk small
in numbers, but great of heart; a folk come, as we be, from
the Fathers and the Gods. And this, moreover, is to be said
of them, that they are the foes of these felons of whom ve were
chasing these twain. And these same Dusky Men of Silver-
dale would slay them every man if they might; and if we look
not to it they will soon be doing the same by us ; for they are
many, and as venomous as adders, as fierce as bears, and as
foul as swine. But these valiant men, who bear on their banner
the image of the Wolf, should be our fellows in arms, and they
have good will thereto ; and they shall show us the way to Sil-
verdale by blind paths, so that we may fall upon these felons
while they dwell there tormenting the poor people of the land,
and thus may we destroy them as lads a hornet's nest. Or else
the days shall be hard for us."

The men who hung about them dran k in his words greed-
ily. But Hall-face was silent a little while, and then he said :
c< Brother Gold-mane, these be great tidings. Time was when
we might have deemed them but a minstrel's tale ; for Silver-
dale we know not, of which thou speakest so glibly, nor the
Dusky Men, any more than the Shadowy Vale. Howbeit,
things have befallen these two last days so strange and new,
152

that putting them together with the murder at Wood-grey's, a hunt of the
and thy words which seem somewhat wild, it may well seem Burgstead
to us that tidings unlooked for are coming our way." mcn

" Come, then," said Face-of-god, " give me what thou hast
in thy scrip, and trust me, I shall not jeer at thy tale."

Said Hall-face: "I also will be short with the tale; and
that the more, as meseemeth it is not yet done, and that thou
thyself shalt share in the ending of it. It was the day before
yesterday, that is the day when thou departedst into the
woods on that adventure whereof thou shalt one day tell me
more, wilt thou not?"

"Yea, in good time," said Face-of-god.

"Well," quoth Hall-fece, "we went into the woods that
day and in the morning, but after sunrise, to the number of
a score: we looked to meet a bear and a she-bear with cubs
in a certain place ; for one of the Woodlanders, a keen hunter,
had told us of their lair. Also we were wishful to slay some
of the wild-swine, the yearlings, if we might. Therefore,
though we had no helms or shields or coats offence, we had
bowshot a plenty, and good store of casting-weapons,besides
our wood-knives and an axe or so; and some of us, of whom
I was one, bore our battle-swords, as we are wont ever to do,
be the foe beast or man.

"Thus armed we went up Wildlake's Way and came to
Carlstead, where half-a-score Woodlanders joined them-
selves to us, so that we became a band. We went up the half-
cleared places past Carlstead for a mile, and then turned east
into the wood, and went I know not how for, for the Wood-
landers led us by crooked paths, but two hours wore awavin
our going, till we came to the place where they looked to
find the bears. It is a place that may well be noted, for it is
unlike the wood round about. There is a close thicket some
two furlongs about of thorn and briar and ill-grown ash and
oak and other trees, planted by the birds belike; and it stands
as it were in an island amidst of a wide-spreading wood-lawn
of fine turf, set about in the most goodly fashion with great

*53

Battle in tall straight-boled oak-trees, that seem to have been planted
the Wood of set purpose by man's hand. Yea, dost thou know the
place?"

"Methinks I do," said Gold-mane, "and I seem to have
heard the Woodlanders give itaname and call it Boars-bait."

"That may be," said Hall-face. "Well, there we were,
the dogs and the men, and we drew nigh the thicket and be-
set it, and doubted not to find prey therein: but when we
would set the dogs at the thicket to enter it, they were un-
easy, and would not take up the slot, but growled and turned
about this way and that, so that we deemed that they winded
some fierce beast at our flanks or backs.

"Even so it was, and fierce enough and deadly was the
beast; for suddenly we heard bow-strings twang, and shafts
came flying; and Iron-shield of the Upper Dale, who was
close beside me, leapt up into the air and fell down dead with
an arrow through his back. Then I bethought me in the
twinkling of an eye, and I cried out, "The foe are on us I
take the cover of the tree-boles and be wary! For the Burg
and the Facel For the Burg and the Face! "

"So we scattered and covered ourselves with the oak-
boles, but besides Iron-shield, who was slain outright, two
goodmen were sorely hurt, to wit Bald-face, a man of our
house, and Stony ford of the Lower Dale.

" I looked from behind my tree-bole, a great one; and far
off* down the glades I saw men moving, clad in gay raiment;
but nearer to me, not a hundred yards from my cover, I saw
an arm clad in scarlet come out from behind a tree-bole, so I
loosed at it, and missed not; for straight there tottered out
from behind the tree one of those dusky foul-favoured men
like to those that were slain by Wood-grey. I had another
shaft ready notched, so I loosed and set the shaft in his throat,
and he fell.

" Straightway was a yelling and howling about us like the
cries of scalded curs, and the oak-wood swarmed thick with
these felons rushing on us; for it seems that the man whom
I had slain was a chief amongst them, or we judged so by his
goodly raiment.

*54

" Methought then our last day was come. What could we The Wolf
do but run together again after we had loosed at a venture, howls
and so withstand them sword and spear in hand? Some fell
beneath our shot, but not many, for they came on very
swiftly.

"So they fell on us; but for all their fierceness and their
numbers they might not break our array, and we slew four
and hurt many by sword-hewing and spear-casting and push
of spear ; and five of us were hurt and one slain by their dart-
casting. So they drew off from us a little, and strove to spread
out and fall to shooting at us again; but this we would not
suffer, but pushed on as they fell back, keeping as close to-
gether as we might for the trees. For we said that we would
ail die together if needs must; and verily the stour was hard.

" Yet hearken I In that nick of time rose up a strange cry
not far from us. Hal ha I ha I ha I How-ow-ow! ending like
the howl of a wolf, and then another and another and an-
other, till the whole wood rang again.

"At first we deemed that here were come fresh foemen,
and that we were undone indeed ; but when they heard it, the
foemen before us faltered and gave way, and at last turned
their backs and fled, and we followed, keeping well together
still: thereby the more part of these men escaped us, for they
fled wildly here and there from those who bore that cry with
them; so we knew that our work was being done for us;
therefore we stood, and saw tall men clad in sheep-brown
weed running through the glades pursuing those felons and
smiting them down, till both fleers and pursuers passed out
of our sight like men in a dream, or as when ye roll up a
pictured cloth to lay it in the coffer.

<c But to Stone-face's mind those brown-clad men were the
Wights of the Wood that be of the Fathers' blood, and our
very friends; and when some of us would vet have gone for-
ward and foregathered with them, and followed the chase
along with them, Stone-face gainsaid it, bidding us not to
run into the arms of a second death, when we had but just
escaped from the first. Sooth to say, moreover, we had divers
hurt men that needed looking to.

*55

They come <c So what with one thing, what with another, we turned
to the Gate back: but War-cliff's brother, a tall man, had felled two of
those felons with an oak sapling which he had torn from the
thicket; but he had not slain them, and by now they were
just awakening from their swoon, and were sitting up look-
ing round them with fierce rolling eyes, expecting the stroke,
for Raven of Longscree was standing over them with a naked
war-sword in his hand. But now that our blood was cool, we
were loth to slay them as they lay in our hands; so we bound
them and brought them away with us; and our own dead we
carried also on such biers as we might lightly make there,
and with them three that were so grievously hurt that they
might not go afoot, these we left at Carls tead: they were
Tardy the Son of the Untamed, and Swan of Bull-meadow,
both of the Lower Dale, and a Woodlander, Undoomed to
wit. But the dead were Iron-shield aforesaid, and Wool-
sark, and the Hewer, a Woodlander.

" So came we sadly at eventide to Burgstead with the two
dead Burgdalers, and the captive felons, and the wounded
of us that might go afoot; and ye may judge that they of
Burgdale and our rather deemed these tidings great enough,
and wotted not what next should befall. Stone-face would
have had those two felons slain there and then; for no true
tale could we get out of them, nor indeed any word at all.
But the Alderman would not have it so ; and he deemed they
might serve our turn as hostages if any of our folk should be
taken : for one and all we deemed, and still deem, that war is
on us and that new folk have gathered on our skirts.

" So the captives were shut up in the red out-bower of our
house; and our father was minded that thou mightest tell
us somewhat of them when thou wert come home. But about
dusk to-day the word went that they had broken out and
gotten them weapons and fled up the Dale; and so it was.

"But to-morrow morning will a Gate-thing be holden,
and there it will be looked for of thee that thou tell us a true
tale of thy goings. For it is deemed, and it is my deeming
especially, that thou mayst tell us more of these men than
thou hast yet told us. Is it not so ? "

i 5 6

"Yea, surely," said Gold-mane, "I can make as many Men hearken
words as ye will about it ; yet when all is said, it will come to in the Hall
much the same tale as I have already told thee. Yet belike,
if ve are minded to take up the sword to defend you, I may
tell you in what wise to lay hold on the hilts."

"And that is well," said Hall- face, "and no less do I look
for of thee. But lol here are we come to the Gate of the Burg
that abideth battle."

CHAPTER XXIII. TALK IN THE HALL OF THE
HOUSE OF THE FACE.

IN sooth they were come to the very Gate of Burgstead,
and the great gates were shut, and only a wicket was open,
and a half score of stout men in all their war-gear were
holding ward thereby. They gave place to Hall-face and his
company, albeit some of the warders followed them through
the wicket that they might hear the story told.

The street was full of folk, both men and women, talking
together eagerly concerning all these tidings, and when they
saw the men of the Hue-and-cry they came thronging about
them, so that they might scarce get to the door of the House
of the Face because ofthe press ; so Hall-face (who was a very
tall man) cried out :

"Good people, all is well! the runaways are slain, and
Face-of-god is come back with us; give place a little, that we
may come into our house."

Then the throng set up a shout, and made way a little, so
that Hall-face and Gold-mane and the others could get to the
door. And they entered into the Hall, and saw much folk
therein ; and men were sitting at table, for supper was not yet
over. But when they saw the new-comers they mostly rose up
from the board and stood silent to hear the tale, for they had
been talking many together each to each, so that the Hall was
full of confused noise.

So Hall-face again cried out: "Men in this hall, good is
the tidings. The runaways are slain; and it was Face-of-god
who slew them as he came back safe from the waste."

*57

The Bride Then they shouted for joy, and the brethren and Stone-

kisscth face with them (for he had entered with them from the street)

Face-of-god went U p on to t h e fa^ while the others of the Hue-and-cry

agam gzt them seats where they might at the endlong tables.

But when Face-of-god came up on to the dais, there sat
Iron-face looking down on the thronged Hall with a ruddy
cheerful countenance, and beside him sat the Bride; for he
had caused her to be brought thither when he had heard of
the tidings of battle. She was daintily clad in a flame-coloured
kirtle embroidered with gold about the bosom and sleeves,
and there was a fillet of golden roses on her ruddy hair. Her
eyes shone bright and eager, and the pommels of her cheeks
were flushed and red contrary to their wont. Needs must
Gold-mane sit by her, and when he came close to her he knew
not what to do, but he put forth his hand to her, yet with a
troubled countenance; for he feared her grief mingled with
her beauty: as for her, she wavered in her mind whether she
should forbear to touch him or not; but she saw that men
about were looking at them, and especially was Iron-face
looking on her : therefore she stood up and took Gold-mane's
hand and kissed his face as she had been wont to do, and by
then was her face as white as paper ; and her anguish pierced
his heart, so that he well-nigh groaned for grief of her. But
Iron-face looked on her andsaid kindly:

" Kinswoman, thou artpale ; thou hast feared for thy mate
amidst all these tidings or war, and still fearest for him. But
pluck up a heart; for the man is a deft warrior for all his fair
face, which thou lo vest as a woman should, and his hands may
yet save his head. And if he be slain, yet are there other men
of the kindred, and the earth will not be a desert to thee even
then."

She looked at Iron-face, and the colour was come back to
her face somewhat, and she said:

" It is true; I have feared for him ; for he goeth into peril-
ousplaces.But for thee, thou art kind, and I thank thee for it."

And therewith she kissed Iron-face and sat down in her
place, and strove to overmaster her grief, that her face might

i 5 8

not be changed by it; for now were thoughts of battle, and Face-of-god
valiant hopes arising in men's hearts; and it seemed to her issony
too grievous if she should mar that feast on the eve of battle.

But Iron-face kissed and embraced his son and said: cc Art
thou late come from the waste? Hast thou seen new things?
We look to have a notable tale from thee; though here also
have been tidings, and it is not unlike that we shall presently
have new work on our hands."

"Father," quoth Face-of-god, "I deem that when thou
hast heard my tale thou wilt think nolessof it than that there
are valiant folk to be holpen, poor folk to be delivered, and
evil folk to be swept from off the face of the earth."

" It is well, son," said Iron-face. " I see that thy tale is long ;
let it alone for to-night. To-morrow shall we hold a Gate-
thing, and then shall we hear all that thou hast to tell. Now
eat thy meat and drink a bowl of wine, and comfort thy troth-
plight maiden."

So Gold-mane sat down by the Bride, and ate and drank
as he needs must ; but he was ill at ease and he durst not speak
to her. For, on the one hand, he thought concerning his love
for the Sun-beam, and how sweet and good a thing it was that
she should take him by the hand and lead him into noble
deeds and great fame, caressing him so softly and sweetly the
while; and, on the other hand, there sat the Bride beside him,
sorrowful and angry, begrudging all that sweetness of love,
as though it were something foul and unseemly; and heavy
on him lay the weight of that grudge, for he was a man of a
friendly heart.

Stone-face sat outward from him on the other side of the
Bride ; and he leaned across her towards Gold-mane and said :

" Fair shall be thy tale to-morrow, if thou tellest us all thine
adventure. Or wilt thou tell us less than all? "

Said Face-of-god: " In good time shalt thou know it all,
foster-father; but it is not unlike that by the time that thou
hast heard it, there shall be so many other things to tell of,
that my tale shall seem of little account to thee — even as the
saw saith that one nail driveth out the other."

159

The garden €C Yea," said Stone-face, " but one tale belike shall be knit
of the Face U p with the others, as it fareth with the figures that come one
alter other on the weaver's cloth; though one maketh not
the other, yet one cometh of the other."

Said Face-of-god: "Wise art thou now, foster-father, but
thou shalt be wiser yet in this matter by then a month hath
worn : and to-morrow shalt thou know enough to set thine
hands a-work."

So the talk fell between them ; and the night wore, and the
men of Burgdale feasted in their ancient hall with merry
hearts, little weighed down by thought of the battle that
might be and the trouble to come; for they were valorous
and kindly folk.

CHAPTER XXIV. FACE-OF-GOD GIVETH THAT
TOKEN TO THE BRIDE.

NOW on the morrow, when Face-of-god arose and
other men with him, and the Hall was astir and there
was no little throng therein,t heBride came up to him ;
for she had slept in the House of the Face by the bidding of
the Alderman ; and she spake to him before ail men, and bade
him come forth with her into the garden, because she would
speak to him apart. He yeasaid her, though with a heavy
heart; and to the folk about that seemed meet and due, since
those twain were deemed to be troth-plight, and they smiled
kindly on them as they went out of the Hall together.

So they came into the garden, where the pear-trees were
blossoming over the spring lilies, and the cherries were show-
ering their flowers on the deep green grass, and everything
smefied sweetly on the warm windless spring morning.

Sheledtheway,goingbeforehim till they came by asmooth
grass path between the berry bushes, to a square spaceof grass
about which were barberry trees, their first tender leavesbr ight
green in the sun against the dry yellowish twigs. There was a
sundial amidmost of the grass, and betwixt thegarden-boughs
onecould see the long grey roof of the ancient hall ; and sweet
1 60

familiar sounds of the nesting birds and men and women The oath
going on their errands were all about in the scented air. She sworn
turned about at the sundial and faced Face-of-god,her hand
lightly laid on the scored brass, and spake with no anger in
her voice :

" I ask thee if thou hast brought me the token whereon thou
shalt swear to give me that gift."

"Yea," said he; and therewith drew the ring from his
bosom, and held it out to her. She reached out her hand to
him slowly and took it, and their fingers met as she did so, and
he noted that her hand was warm and firm and wholesome as
he well remembered it.

She said: "Whence hadst thou this fair finger-ring?"

SaidFace-of-god:" My friend there in the mountain-val-
ley drew it from off her finger for thee, and bade me bear thee
a message."

Her race flushed red : "Yea," she said, "and doth she send
me a message? Then doth she know of me, and ye have talked
of me together. — Well, give the message! "

SaidFace-of-god: "She saith, that thou shalt bear in mind,
That to-morrow is a new day."

" Yea," she said, "for her it is so, and for thee;but not for
me. But now I have brought thee here that thou mightest
swear thine oath to me; lay thine hand on this ring and on
this brazen plate whereby the sun measures the hours of the
day for happy folk, and swear by the spring-tide of the year
and all glad things that find a mate, and by the God of the
Earth that rejoiceth in the life of man."

Then he laid his hand on the finger-ring as it lay on the dial-
plate and said :

"By the spring-tide and the live things that long to multi-
ply their kind; by the God of the Earth that rejoiceth in the
life of man, I swear to give to my kinswoman the Bride the
second man-child that I beget ; to be hers, to leave or cherish,
to love or hate, as her will may bid her." Then he looked on
her soberly and said: " It is duly sworn; is it enough? "

"Yea," she said; but he saw how the tears ran out of her
xv.m 161

"To-mor- eyes and wetted the bosom of her kirtle, and she hung her
row is a new head for shame of her grief. And Gold-mane was all abashed,
**Y ' and had no word to say ; for he knew that no word of his might

comfort her; and he deemed it ill done to stay there and be-
hold her sorrow ; and he knew not how to get him gone, and
be glad elsewhere, and leave her alone.

Then, as if she had read his thought, she looked up at him
and said smiling a little amidst of her tears :

" I bid thee stay by me till the flood is over; for I have yet
a word to say to thee."

So he stood there gazing down on the grass in his turn, and
not daring to raise his eyes to her face,and the minutes seemed
long to him : till at last she said in a voice scarcely yet clear of
weeping:

"Wilt thou say anything to me, and tell me what thou hast
done, and why, and what thou deemest will come of it?"

He said : " I will tell the truth as I know it, because thou
askest it of me, and not because I would excuse my self before
thee. Whathavel done? Yesterday I plightedmy troth to wed
the woman that I met last autumn in the wood. And why? I
wot not why, but that I longed for her. Yet I must tell thee
that it seemed to me, and yet seemeth, that I might do no
otherwise — that there was nothing else in the world for me to
do. What do I deem will come of it, sayest thou? This, that
we shall be happy together, she and I, till the day of our
death."

She said : "And even so long shall I be sorry : so far are we
sundered now. Alas! who looked for it? And whither shall I
turn to now?"

Said Gold-mane : " She bade me tell thee that to-morrow
is a new day: meseemeth I know her meaning."

"No word of hers hath any meaning to me," said the Bride.

"Nay," said he, "but hast thou not heard these rumours
of war that are in the Dale? Shall not these things avail thee?
Much may grow out of them; and thou with the mighty
heart, so faithful and compassionate! "

She said: "What sayest thou? What may grow out of
162

them ? Yea, I have heard those rumours as a man sick to death Grief and
heareth men talk of their business down in the street while "knee in the
he lieth on his bed; and already he hath done with it all, and ^ ardcn
hath no world to mend or mar. For me nought shall grow
out of it. What meanest thou?"

Said Gold-mane: "Is there nought in the fellowship of
Folks, and the aiding of the valiant, and the deliverance of
the hapless?*'

"Nay," she said, " there c is nought to me. I cannot think
of it to-day nor yet to-morrow belike. Yet true it is that I
may mingle in it, though thinking nought of it. But this shall
not avail me."

She was silent a little, but presently spake and said : " Thou
sayest right ; it is not thou that hast done this, but the woman
who sent me the ring and the message of an old saw. O that
she should be born to sunder us! How hath it befallen that I
am now so little to thee and she so much? "

And again she was silent; and after a while Face-of-god
spake kindly and softly and said : " Kinswoman, wilt thou for
ever begrudge our love? this grudge lieth heavy on my soul,
and it is I alone that have to bear it."

She said : " This is but a light burden for thee to bear, when
thou hast nought else to bear! But do I begrudge thee thy
love, Gold-mane? I know not that. Rather meseemeth I do
not believe in it — nor shall do ever."

Then she held her peace a long while, nor did he speak
one word: and they were so still, that a robin came hopping
about them, close to the hem of her kirtle, and a starling
pitched in the apple-tree hard by and whistled and chuckled,
turning about and about, heeding them nought. Then at last
she lifted up her face from looking on the grass and said :
"These are idle words and avail nothing: one thing only I
know, that we are sundered. And now it repenteth me that
I have shown thee my tears and my grief and my sickness of
the earth and those that dwell thereon. I am ashamed of it,
as if thou hadst smitten me, and I had come and shown thee
the stripes, and said, See what thou hast done! hast thou no
M2 163

The Bride
will declare
the sunder-
ing of the
troth-plight

pity? Yea, thou pitiest me, and wilt try to forget thy pity.
Belike thou art right when thou say est, To-morrow is a new
day; belike matters will arise that will call me back to life,
and I shall once more take heed of the joy and sorrow of my
people. Nav it is most like that this I shall feign to do even
now. But it to-morrow be a new day, it is to-day now and not
to-morrow, and so shall it be for long. Hereof belike we shall
talk no more, thou and I. For as the days wear, the dealings
between us shall be that thou shalt but get thee away from
my life, and I shall be nought to thee but the name of a kins-
woman. Thus should it be even wert thou to strive to make
it otherwise; and thou shalt not strive. So let all this be; for
this is not the word I had to say to thee. But hearken ! now
are we sundered, and it irketh me beyond measure that folk
know it not, and are kind, and rejoice in our love, and deem
it a happy thing for the folk; and this burden I may bear no
longer. So I shall declare unto men that I will not wed thee ;
and belike they may wonder why it is, till they see thee wed-
ded to the Woman of the Mountain. Art thou content that
so it shall be?"

Said Face-of-god : " Nay, thou shalt not take this all upon
thyself; I also shall declare unto the Folk that I will wed none
but her, the Mountain- Woman."

She said: "This shalt thou not do; I forbid it thee. And I
will take it all upon myself. Shall I have it said of me that I
am unmeet to wed thee, and that thou hast found me out at
last and at latest? I lay this upon thee, that wheresoever I de-
clare this and whatsoever I may say, thou shalt hold thy peace.
This at least thou mayst do for me. Wilt thou?"
"Yea," he said, "though it shall put me to shame."
Again she was silent for a little ; then she said :
" O Gold-mane, this would I take upon myself not soothly
for any shame of seeming to be thy cast-off; but because it is
I who needs must bear all the sorrow of our sundering; and
I have the will to bear it greater and heavier, that I may be as
the women of old time, and they that have come from the
Gods, lest I belittle my life with malice and spite and confu-
164

sion, and it become poisonous to me. Be at peace ! be at peace ! Face~of-god
And leave all to the wearing of the years; and forget not that is sorry for
which thou hast sworn! " past days

Therewith she turned and went from that green place to-
ward the House of the Face, walking slowly through the
garden amongst the sweet odours, beneath the fair blossoms,
a body most dainty and beauteous of fashion, but the casket
of grievous sorrow, which all that goodliness availed not.

But Face-of-god lingered in that place a little, and for that
little while the joy of his life was dulled and overworn; and
the days before his wandering on the mountain seemed to
him free and careless and happy days that he could not but
regret. He was ashamed, moreover, that this so unquench-
able grief should come but of him, and the pleasure of his
life, which he himself had found out for himself, and which
was but such a little portion of the Earth and the deeds
thereof. But presently his thought wandered from all this,
and as he turned away from the sundial and went his ways
through the garden, he called to mind his longing for the day
of the spring market, when he should see the Sun-beam
again and be cherished by the sweetness of her love.

CHAPTER XXV. OF THE GATE-THING AT
BURGSTEAD.

BUT now must he hasten, for the Gate-thing was to
be holden two hours before noon; so he betook him
speedily to the Hall, and took his shield and did on a
goodly helm and girt his sword to his side, for men must
needs go to all folk-motes with their weapons and clad in war-
gear. Thus he went forth to the Gate with many others, and
there already were many folk assembled in the space afore-
said betwixt the Gate of the Burg and the sheer rocks on the
face of which were the steps that Ted up to the ancient Tower
on the height. The Alderman was sitting on the great stone
by the Gate-side which was his appointed place, and beside
him on the stone bench were the six Wardens of the Burg;

i6 5

Men gather but of the six Wardens of the Dale there were but three, for
to the Gate- the others had not yet heard tell of the battle or had got the
thing summons to the Thing, since they had been about their busi-

ness down the Dale.

Face-of-god took his place silently amongst the neigh-
bours, but men made way for him, so that he must needs stand
in front, facing his father and the Wardens; and there went
up a murmur of expe&ation round about him, both because
the word had gone about that he had a tale of new tidings to
tell, and also because men deemed him their best and handi-
est man, though he was yet so young.

Now the Alderman looked around and beheld a great
throng gathered together, and he looked on the shadow of
the Gate which the southering sun was casting on the hard
white ground of the Thing-stead, and he saw that it had Just
taken in the standing-stone which was in the midst or the
place. On the face of the said stone was carven the image of a
fighting man with shield on arm and axe in hand; for it had
been set there in old time in memory of the man who had
bidden the Folk build the Gate and its wall, and had showed
them how to fashion it: for he was a deft house-smith as well
as a great warrior ; and his name was Iron-hand. So when the
Alderman saw that this stone was wholly within the shadow
of the Gate he knew that it was the due time for the hallow-
ing-in of the Thing. So he bade one of the Wardens who sat
beside him and had a great slug-horn slung about him, to rise
and set the horn to his mouth.

So that man arose and blew three great blasts that went
bellowing about the towers and down the street, and beat
back again from the face of the sheer rocks and up them and
over into the wild-wood; and the sound of it went on the
light west-wind along the lips of the Dale toward the moun-
tain wastes. And many a goodman, when he heard the voice
of the horn in the bright spring morning, left spade or axe or
plough-stilts, or the foddering of the ewes and their young-
lings, and turned back home to fetch his sword and helm and
hasten to the Thing, though he knew not why it was sum-
166

moned: and women wending over the meadows, who had The Gate-
not yet heard of the battle in the wood, hearkened and stood thing hal-
still on the green grass or amidst the ripples of the ford, and lowcd " m
the threat of coming trouble smote heavy on their hearts,
for they knew that great tidings must be towards if a Thing
must needs be summoned so dose to the Great Folk-mote.

But now the Alderman stood up and spake amidst the
silence that followed the last echoes of the horn :

"Now is hallowed-in this Gate-thing of the Burgstead
Men and the Men of the Dale, wherein they shall take
counsel concerning matters late befallen, that press hard
upon them. Let no man break the peace of the Holy Thing,
lest he become a man accursed in holy places from the plain
up to the mountain, and from the mountain down to the
plain ; a man not to be cherished of any man of good will, not
be holpen with victuals or edge-tool or draught-beast; a
man to be sheltered under no roof-tree, and warmed at no
hearth of man: so help us the Warrior and the God of the
Earth, and Him of the Face, and all the Fathers!"

When he had spoken men clashed their weapons in token
of assent; and he sat down again, and there was silence for a
space. But presently came thrusting forward a goodman of
the Dale, who seemed as if he had come hurriedly to the
Thing; for his face was running down with sweat, his wide-
rimmed iron cap sat awry over his brow, and he was girt
with a rusty sword without a scabbard, and the girdle was
ill-braced up about his loins. So he said:

"I am Red-coat of Waterless of the Lower Dale. Early
this morning as I was going afield I met on the way a man
akin to me, Fox of Upton to wit, and he told me that men
were being summoned to a Gate-thing. So I turned back
home, and caught up any weapon that came handy, and here
I am, Alderman, asking thee of the tidings which hath driven
thee to call this Thing so hard on the Great Folk-mote, for
I know them not."

Then stood up Iron-face the Alderman and said: "This
is well asked, and soon shall ye be as wise as I am on this

167

The Alder- matter. Know ye, O men of Burgstead and the Dale, that we
man setteth had not called this Gate-thing so hard on the Great Folk-
forth tidings mo t e had not great need been to look into troublous matters.

Long have ye dwelt in peace, and it is years on years now
since any foeman hath fallen on the Dale: but, as ye will bear
in mind, last autumn were there ransackings in the Dale and
amidst of the Shepherds after the manner of deeds of war;
and it troubleth us that none can say who wrought these ill
deeds. Next, but a little while agone, was Wood-grey, a
valiant goodman of the Woodlanders, slain close to his own
door by evil men. These men we took at first for mere gan-
grel felons and outcasts from their own folk : though there
were some who spoke against that from the beginning.

"But thirdly are new tidings again: for three days ago,
while some of the folk were hunting peaceably in the Wild-
wood and thinking no evil, they were fallen upon of set pur-
pose by a host of men-at-arms, and nought would serve but
mere battle for dear life, so that many of our neighbours were
hurt, and three slain outright; and now mark this, that those
who there fell upon our folk were clad and armed even as
the two felons that slew Wood-grey, and moreover were like
them in aspect of body. Now stand forth Hall-face my son,
and answer to my questions in a loud voice, so that all may
hear thee."

So Hall-face stood forth, clad in gleaming war-gear, with
an axe over his shoulder, and seemed a doughty warrior.
And Iron-face said to him:

"Tell me, son, those whom ye met in the wood, and of
whom ye brought home two captives, how much like were
they to the murder-carles at Wood-grey's?*'

Said Hall-face: "As like as peas out of the same cod, and
to our eyes all those whom we saw in the wood might have
been sons of one father and one mother, so much alike were
they."

"Yea," said the Alderman; "now tell me how many by
thy deeming fell upon you in the wood ? "
168

Said Hall-face: "We deemed that if they were any less The tale of
than threescore, they were little less." Hall-face

"Great was the odds," said the Alderman. "Or how many
were ye?'*

" One score and seven/* said Hall-face.

Said the Alderman : "And yet ye escaped with life all save
those three?"

"Hall-face said: "I deem that scarce one should have
come back alive, had it not been that as we fought came a
noise like the howling of wolves, and thereat the foemen
turned and fled, and there followed on the fleers tall men
clad in sheep-brown raiment, who smote them down as they
fled."

" Here then is the story, neighbours," said the Alderman,
"and ye may see thereby that if those slayers of Wood-grey
were outcast, their band is a great one ; but it seemeth rather
that they were men of a folk whose craft it is to rob with the
armed hand, and to slay the robbed ; and that they are now
gathering on our borders for war. Yet, moreover, they have
foemen in the woods who should be fellows-in-arms of us.
How sayest thou, Stone-face? Thou art old, and hast seen
many wars in the Dale, and knowest the Wild-wood to its

innermost."

"Alderman," said Stone-face, "and ye neighbours of the
Dale, maybe these foes whom ye have met are not of the race
of man, but are trolls and wood-wights. Now if they be trolls
it is ill, for then is the world growing worser, and the wood
shall be right perilous for those who needsmust fare therein.
Yet if they be men it is a worse matter; for the trolls would
not come out of the waste into the sunlight of the Dale. But
these foes, if they be men, are lusting after our fair Dale to
eat it up, and it is most like that they are gathering a huge
host to fell upon us at home. Such things I have heard of
when I was young, and the aspect of the evil men who over-
ran the kindreds of old time, according to all tales and lays
that I have heard, is even such as the aspect of those whom

169

The dead we have seen of late. As to those wolves who saved the neigh-
felons: hours and chased their foemen, there is one here who belike
Face-of-god k nowe th more of all this than we do, and that, O Alderman,
questione . j g ^ sQn w j lom j h ave fostered, Face-of-god to wit. Bid

him answer to thy questioning, and tell us what he hath seen
and heard of late; then shall we verily know the whole story
as far as it can be known.' 9

Then men pressed round, and were eager to hear what
Face-of-god would be saying. But or ever the Alderman
could begin to question him, the throng was cloven by new-
comers, and these were the men who had been sent to bring
home the corpses of the Dusky Men : so they had cast loaded
hooks into the Weltering Water, and had dragged up him
whom Face-of-god had shoved into the eddy, and who had
sunk like a stone j ust where he fell, an d now they were bring-
ing him on a bier along with him who had been slain a-land.
They were set down in the place before the Alderman, and
men who had not seen them before looked eagerly on them
that they might behold the aspect of their foemen; and
nought lovely were they to look on ; for the drowned man
was already bleached and swollen with the water, and the
other, his face was all wryed and twisted with that spear-
thrust in the mouth.

Then the Alderman said : " I would question my son Face-
of-god. Let him stand forth!"

And therewith he smiled merrily in his son's face, for he
was standing right in front of him ; and he said :

" Ask of me, Alderman, and I will answer."

" Kinsman," said Iron-face, " look at these two dead men,
and tell me, if thou hast seen any such besides those two
murder-carles who were slain at Carlstead ; or if thou know-
est aught of their folk? "

Said Face-of-god : " Yesterday I saw six others like to these
both in array and of body, and three of them I slew, for we
were in battle with them early in the morning."

There was a murmur of joy at this word, since all men took
170

these felons for deadly foemen; but Iron-face said: "What Facc-of-god
meanest thou by c we ' ? " telleth <> f

" I and the men who had guested me overnight,"said Face- ^* dow 7
of-god, "and they slew the other three; or rather a woman
of them slew the felons."

"Valiant she was; all good go with her hand!*' said the
Alderman. " But what be these people, and where do they
dwell?"

Said Face-of-god : " As to what they are, they are of the
kindred of the Gods and the Fathers, valiant men, and guest-
cherishing: rich have they been, and now are poor: and
their poverty cometh of these same felons, who mastered
them by numbers not to be withstood. As to where they
dwell : when I say the name of their dwelling-place men mock
at me, as if I named some valley in the moon: yet came I to
Burgdale thence in one day across the mountain -necks led by
sure guides, and I tell thee that the name of their abode is
Shadowy Vale."

"Yea," said Iron-face, "knoweth any man here of Shad-
owy Vale, or where it is?"

None answered for a while ; but there was an old man who
was sitting on the shafts of a wain on the outskirts of the
throng, and when he heard this word he asked his neighbour
what the Alderman was saying, and he told him. Then said
that elder:

"Give me place; for I have a word to say hereon." There-
with he arose, and made his way to the front of the ring of
men, and said: "Alderman, thou knowest me?"

" Yea," said Iron-face, " thou art called the Fiddle, because
of thy sweet speech and thy minstrelsy; whereof I mind me
well in the time when I was young and thou nolongeryoung."

"So it is," said the Fiddle. "Now hearken! When I was
very young I heard of a vale lying far away across the moun-
tain-necks ; a vale where the sun shone never in winter and
scantily in summer; for my sworn foster-brother, Fight-fain,
a bold man and a great hunter, had happened upon it ; and on

171

The Fiddle
hath seen
Shadowy
Vale

a day in full midsummer he brought me thither; and even
now I see the Vale before me as in a picture; a marvellous
place, well grassed, treeless, narrow, betwixt great cliff-walls
of black stone,with a green river running through it towards
a yawning gap and a huge force. Amidst that Vale was a doom-
ring of black stones, and nigh thereto a feast-hall well builded
of the like stones, over whose door was carven the image of
a wolf with red gaping jaws, and within it (for we entered in-
to it) were stone benches on the dais. Thence we came away,
and thither again we went in late autumn, and so dusk and
cold it was at that season, that we knew not what to call it save
the valley of deep shade. But its real name we never knew ;
for there was no man there to give us a name or tell us any tale
thereof; but all was waste there; thewimbrel laughed across
its water, the raven croaked from its crags, the eagle screamed
over it, and the voices of its waters never ceased ; and thus we
left it. So the seasons passed, and we went thither no more :
for Fight-fain died, and without him wandering over the
waste was irksome to me; so never have I seen that valley
again, or heard men tell thereof.

" Now, neighbours, have I told you of a valley which seem-
eth to be Shadowy Vale; and this is true and no made-up
story."

The Alderman nodded kindly to him, and then said to
Face-of-god: "Kinsman, is this word according with what
thou knowest of Shadowy Vale? "

" Yea, on all points," said Face-of-god; "he hath put be-
fore me a picture of the valley. And whereas he saith, that in
his youth it was waste, this also goeth with my knowledge
thereof. For once was it peopled, and then was waste, and now
again is it peopled."

" Tell us then more of the folk thereof," said the Alder-
man ; " are they many? "

" Nay," said Face-of-god, " they are not. How might they
be many, dwelling in that narrow Vale amid the wastes? But
they are valiant, both men and women, and strong and well-
liking. Once they dwelt in a fair dale called Silverdale, the
172

name whereof will be to you as a name in a lay ; and there were Face-of-
they wealthy and happy. Then fell upon them this murderous ff^' 8 story
Folk, whom they call the Dusky Men ; and they fought and
were overcome, and many of them were slain, and many en-
thralled, and the remnant of them escaped through the passes
of the mountains and came back to dwell in Shadowy Vale,
where their forefathers had dwelt long and long ago; and this
overthrow befell them ten years ago ne. But now their old foe-
men have broken out from Sil verdale & have taken to scour-
ing the wood seeking prey; so they fall upon these Dusky
Men as occasion serves, and slay them without pity, as if
they were adders or evil dragons; and indeed they be worse.
Ana these valiant men know for certain that their foemen are
now of mind to fall upon this Dale and destroy it, as they have
done with others nighertothem. Andthey will slayour men,
and lie with our women against their will, and enthrall our
children, and torment all those that lie under their hands till
life shall be worse than death to them. Therefore, O Alderman
and Wardens, and ye neighbours all, it behoveth you to take
counsel what we shall do, and that speedily."

There was again a murmur, as of men nothing daunted,
but intent on taking some way through the coming trouble.
But no man said aught till the Alderman spake :

" When didst thou first happen upon this Earl-folk, son ? "

" Late last autumn," said Face-of-god.

Said Iron-face: "Then mightest thou have told us of this
tale before."

" Yea," said his son, " but I knew it not, or but little of it,
till two days agone. In the autumn I wandered in the wood-
land, and on the fell I happened on a few of this folk dwelling
in a booth by the pine-wood; and they were kind and guest-
fain with me, and gave me meat and drink and lodging, and
bade me come to Shadowy Vale in the spring, when I should
know more of them. And that was I fain of; for they are wise
and goodly men. But I deemed no more of those that I saw
there save as men who had been outlawed by their own folk
for deeds that were unlawful belike, but not shameful, and

173

His deeming were biding their time of return, and were living as they
of the men might meanwhile. But of the whole Folk and their foemen
of Shadowy j cnew j no mQ re than ye did, till two days agone, when I met
them again inShadowy Vale. Also I thinkbeforelongyeshall
see their chieftain in Burgstead, for he hath a word for us.
Lastly, my mind it is that those brown-clad men who helped
Hall-face and his company in the wood were nought but men
of this Earl-kin seeking their foemen; for indeed they told
me that they had come upon a battle in the woodland where-
in they had slain their foemen. Now have I told you all that
ye need to know concerning these matters."

Again was there silence as Iron-face sat pondering a ques-
tion for his son; then a goodman of the Upper Dale, Grit-
garth to wit, spake and said:

"Gold-mane mine, tell us how many is this folk; I mean
their fighting-men ? "

"Well asked, neighbour," said Iron-face.

Said Face-of-god: "Their fighting-men of full age may
be five score; but besides that there shall be some two or
three score of women that will fight, whoever says them nay ;
and many of these are little worse in the field than men; or
no worse, for they shoot well in the bow. Moreover, there
will be a full score of swains not yet twenty winters old whom
ye may not hinder to fight if anything is a-doing."

"This is no great host," said the Alderman; "yet if they
deem there is little to lose by fighting, and nought to gain by
sitting still, they may go far in winning their desire; and that
more especially if they may draw into theirquarrel some other
valiant Folk more in number than they be. I marvel not,
though, they were kind to thee, son Gold-mane, if they knew
who thou wert."

"They knew it," said Face-of-god.

"Neighbours," said the Alderman, "have ye any rede
hereon, and aught to say to back your rede?"

Then spake the Fiddle: "As ye know and may see, I am
now very old, and, as the word goes, unmeet for battle: yet
might I get me to the field, either on mine own legs or on the

174

legs of some four-foot beast, I would strike, if it were but one The good-
stroke, on these pests of the earth. And, Alderman, meseem- men give out
eth we shall do amiss if we bid not the Earl-folk of Shadowy ! hcir dc * m -
Valetobeourfellowsinarmsinthisadventure.Forlookyou, Jjjf^* C
how few soever they be, they will be sure to know the ways of
our foemen, and the mountain passes, and the surest and
nighest roads across the necks and the mires of the waste;
and though they be not a host, yet shall they be worth a host
to us!"

When men heard his words they shouted for joy of them;
for hatred of the Dusky Men who should so mar their happy
life in the Dale was growing up in them, and the more that
hatred waxed, the more waxed their love of those valiant ones.

Now Red-coat of Waterless spake again : he was a big man,
both tall and broad, ruddy-faced and red-haired, some forty
winters old. He said:

"Life hath been well with us of the Lower Dale, and we
deem that we have much to lose in losing it. Yet ill would the
bargain be to buy life with thralldom : we have been over-
merry hitherto for that. Therefore I say, to battle! And as to
these men, these well-wishers of Face-of-god, if they also are
minded for battle with our foes, we were fools indeed if we
did not join them to our company, were they but one score
instead of six."

Menshoutedagain,andtheysaidthatRed-coathadspoken
well.

Then one after other the goodmen of the Dale came and
gave their word for fellowship in arms with the Men of
Shadowy Vale, if there were such as Face-of-god had said,
which they doubted not; and amongst them that spake were
Fox of Nethertown,and Warwell,and Gritgarth, and Bear-
swain, and WarclifF, and Hart of HighclifF, and Worm of
Willowholm,and Bullsbane,and Highnebof the Marsh: all
these were stout men-at-arms and men of good counsel.

Last of all the Alderman spake and said :

"As to the war, that must we needs meet if all be sooth that
we have heard, and I doubt it not.

*75

chosen

A War- " Now therefore let us look to it like wise men while time

leader y C t serves. Ye shall know that the muster of the Dalesmen

will bring under shield eight long hundreds of men well-
armed, and of the Shepherd-Folk four hundreds, and of the
Woodlanders two hundreds; and this is a goodly host if it be
well ordered and wisely led. Now am I your Alderman and
your Dooms ter, and lean heave up a sword as well as another
maybe, nor do I think that I shall blench in the battle; yet I
misdoubt me that I am no leader or orderer of men-of-war :
therefore yewill do wisely to choosea wiser man-at-arms than
I be for your War-leader; and if at the Great Folk-mote,
when all the Houses and Kindreds are gathered, men yeasay
your choosing, then let him abide ; but if they naysay it, let
him give place to another. For time presses. Will ye so
choose ?"

" Yea, yea! " cried all men.

"Good is that, neighbours," said the Alderman. "Whom
will ye have for War-leader? Consider well."

Short was their rede, for every man opened his mouth and
cried out " Face-of-god! " Then said the Alderman :

"The man is young and untried; yet though he is so near
akin to me, I will say that ye will do wisely to take him ; for
he is both deft of his hands and brisk; and moreover, of this
matter he knoweth more than all we together. Now therefore
I declare him your War-leader till the time of the Great
Folk-mote."

Then all men shouted with great glee and clashed their
weapons; but some few put their heads together and spake
apart a little while, and then one of them, Red-coat ofWater-
less to wit, came forward and said : "Alderman, some of us
deem it good that Stone-face, the old man wise in war and in
the ways of the Wood, should be named as a counsellor to
the War-leader ; and Hall-face, a very brisk and strong young
man, to be his right hand and sword-bearer."

" Good is that," said Iron-face. " Neighbours, will ye have
it so?"

This also they yeasaid without delay, and the Alderman
176

declared Stone-face and Hall-face the helpers of Face-of-god The War-
in this business. Then he said : leadcr <*&*&

" If any hath aught to say concerning what is best to be done mcn a d
at once, it were good that he said it now before all and not to
murmur and grudge hereafter."

None spake save the Fiddle, who said : "Alderman and
War-leader, one thing would I say: that if these foemen are
anywise akin to those overrunners of the Folks of whom the
tales went in my youth (for I also as well as Stone-face mind
me well of those tales concerning them), it shall not avail us
to sit still and await their onset. For then may they not be
withstood, when they have gathered head and burst out and
over the folk that have been happy, even as the waters that
overtop a dyke and cover with their muddy ruin the deep
green grass and the flower-buds of spring. Therefore my rede
is, as soon as may be to go seek these folk in the woodland and
wheresoever else they may be wandering. What sayest thou,
Face-of-god? "

" My rede is as thine," said he; "and to begin with, I do
now call upon ten tens of good men to meet me in arms at
the beginning of Wildlake's Way to-morrow morning at
daybreak; and I bid my brother Hall-face to summon such
as are most meet thereto. For this I deem good, that we
scour the wood daily at present till we hear fresh tidings from
them of Shadowy Vale, who are nigher than we to the foemen.
Now, neighbours, are ye ready to meet me?"

Then all shouted, "Yea, we will go, we will go! "

Said the Alderman: "Now have we made provision for
the war in that which is nearest to our hands. Yet have we to
deal with the matter of the fellowship with the Folk whom
Face-of-god hath seen. This is a matter for thee, son, at least
till the Great Folk-mote is holden. Tell me then, shall we
send a messenger to Shadowy Vale to speak with this folk,
shall we abide the chieftain's coming? '

"By my rede," said Face-of-god, "we shall abide hiscom-
ing: for first, though I might well make my way thither, I
doubt if I could give any the bearings, so that he could come
xv.n 177

>,or

A fair-clad there without me; and belike I am needed at home, since I
warrior a m become War-leader. Moreover, when your messenger

cometh to Shadowy Vale, he may well chance to find neither
the chieftain there, nor the best of his men ; for whiles are
they here, and whiles there, as they wend following after the
Dusky Men."

"It is well, son," said the Alderman, "let it be as thou
sayest: soothly this matter must needs be brought before the
Great Folk-mote. Now will I ask if any other hath any word
to say, or any rede to give before this Gate-thing sundereth ?"
But no man came forward, and all men seemed well content
and of good heart; and it was now well past noontide.

CHAPTER XXVI. THE ENDING OF THE GATE-
THING.

BUT just as the Alderman was on the point of rising to
declare the breaking-up of the Thing, there came a
stir in the throng and it opened, and a warrior came
forth into the innermost of the ring of men, arrayed in
goodly glittering war-gear; clad in such wise that a tunicle
of precious gold-wrought web covered the hauberk all but
the sleeves thereof, and the hem of it beset with blue moun-
tain-stones smote against the ankles and well-nigh touched
the feet, shod with sandals gold-embroidered and gemmed.
This warrior bore a goodly gilded helm on the head, and
held in hand a spear with gold-garlanded shaft, and was girt
with a sword whose hilts and scabbard both were adorned
with gold and gems: beardless, smooth-cheeked, exceeding
fair of face was the warrior, but pale and somewhat haggard-
eyed : and those who were nearby beheld and wondered ; for
they saw that there was come the Bride arrayed for war and
battle, as if she were a messenger from the House of the
Gods, and the Burg that endureth for ever.

Then she fell to speech in a voice which at first was some-
what hoarse and broken, but cleared as she went on, and she
said:

i 7 8

"There sittest thou, O Alderman of Burgdale! Is Face- Iron-face is
of-god thy son anywhere nigh, so that he can hear me? " an 8 r > r

But Iron-face wondered at her word, and said: "He is
beside thee, as he should be/ 9 For indeed Face-of-god was
touching her, shoulder to shoulder. But she looked not to
the right hand nor the left, but said :

"Hearken, Iron-face I Chief of the House of the Face,
Alderman of the Dale, and ye also, neighbours and goodmen
of the Dale: I am a woman called the Bride, of the House of
the Steer, and ye have heard that I have plighted my troth
to Face-of-god to wed with him, to love him, and lie in his
bed. But it is not so: we are not troth-plight; nor will I wed
with him, nor any other, but will wend with you to the war,
and play my part therein according to what might is in me;
nor will I be worser than the wives of Shadowy Vale."

Face-of-god heard her words with no change of counten-
ance; but Iron-face reddened over all his face, and stared at
her, and knit his brows and said :

"Maiden, what are these words? What have we done to
thee? Have I not been to thee as a father, and loved thee
dearly? Is not my son goodly and manly and deft in arms?
Hath it not ever been the wont of the House of the Face to
wed in the House of the Steer? and in these two Houses
there hath never yet been a goodlier man and a lovelier
maiden than are ye two. What have we done then ?"

"Ye have done nought against me," she said, "and all
that thou sayest is sooth; yet will I not wed with Face-of-

Yet fiercer waxed the face of the Alderman, and he said in
a loud voice :

"But how if I tell thee that I will speak with thy kindred
of the Steer, and thou shalt do after my bidding whether thou
wilt or whether thou wilt not ? "

"And how will ye compel me thereto?" she said. "Are
there thralls in the Dale? Or will ye make me an outlaw?
Who shall heed it? Or I shall betake me to Shadowy Vale
and become one of their warrior-maidens."

N2 179

Fair words Now was the Alderman's face changing from red to white,
of the Bride and belike he forgat the Thing, and what he wasdoingthere,
and he cried out:

" This is an evil day, and who shall help me? Thou, Face-
of-god, what hast thou to say? Wilt thou let this woman go
without a word? What hath bewitched thee?"

But never a word spake his son, but stood looking straight
forward, cold and calm by seeming. Then turned Iron-face
again to the Bride, and said in a softer voice:

"Tell me, maiden, whom I erst called daughter, what
hath befallen, that thou wilt leave my son ; thou who wert
once so kind and loving to him ; whose hand was always
seeking his, whose eyes were ever following his ; who wouldst
go where he bade, and come when he called. What hath be-
tid that ye have cast him out, and flee from our House? "

She flushed red beneath her helm and said :

"There is war in the land, and I have seen it coming, and
that things shall change around us. I have looked about me
and seen men happy and women con tent, and children weary
for mere mirth and joy. And I have thought, in a day, or
two days or three, all this shall be changed, and the women
shall be, some anxious and wearied with waiting, some cast-
ing all hope away; and the men, some shall come back to the
garth no more, and some shall come back maimed and use-
less, and there shall be loss of friends and fellows, and mirth
departed, and dull days and empty hours, and the children
wandering about marvelling at the sorrow of the house. All
this I saw before me, and grief and pain and wounding and
death; and I said: Shall I be any better than the worst of the
folk that loveth me? Nay, this shall never be; and since I
have learned to be deft with mine hands in all the play of
war, and that I am as strong as many a man, and as hardy-
hearted as any, I will give myself to the Warrior and the God
of the Face; and the battle-field shall be my home, and the
after-grief of the fight my banquet and holiday, that I may
bear tne burden of my people, in the battle and out of it;
and know every sorrow that the Dale hath; and cast aside as
1 80

a grievous and ugly thing the bed of the warrior that the Iron-face
maiden desires, and the toying of lips and hands and soft would break
words of desire, and all the joy that dwelleth in the Castle of t !| c Kf? crf
Love and the Garden thereof; while the world outside is * e lng
sick and sorry, and the fields lie waste and the harvest burn-
etii. Even so have I sworn, even so will I do."

Her eyes glittered and her cheek was flushed, and her
voice was clear and ringing now; and when she ended there
arose a murmur of praise from the men round about her.
But Iron-face said coldly:

c€ These are great words ; but I know not what they mean.
If thou wilt to the field and fight among the carles (and that
I would not naysay, for it hath oft been done and praised
aforetime), why shouldest thou not go side by side with Face-
of-god and as his plighted maiden? '

The light which the sweetness of speech had brought into
her face had died out of it now, and she looked weary and
hapless as she answered him slowly:

" I will not wed with Face-of-god, but will fare afield as a
virgin of war, as I have sworn to the Warrior."

Then waxed Iron-face exceeding wroth, and he rose up
before all men and cried loudly and fiercely:

" There is some lie abroad, that windeth about us as the
gossamers in the lanes of an autumn morning. 9 '

And therewith he strode up to Face-of-god as though he
had nought to do with the Thing; and he stood before him
and cried out at him while all men wondered:

"Thou! what hast thou done to turn this maiden's heart
to stone? Who is it that is devising guile with thee to throw
aside this worthy wedding in a worthy House, with whom
our sons are ever wont to wed? Speak, tell the tale! "

But Face-of-god held his peace and stood calm and proud
before all men.

Then the blood mounted to Iron-face's head, and he for-
gat folk and kindred and the war to come, and he cried so
that all the place rang with the words of his anger:

"Thou dastard! I see thee now; it is thou that hast done

181

The Alder-
man dooms
the peace-
breaker

this, and not the maiden ; and now thou hast made her bear
a double burden, and set her on to speak for thee, whilst
thou standest by saying nought, and wilt take no scruple's
weight of her shame upon theel "

But his son spake never a word, and Iron-face cried : " Out
on thee ! I know thee now, and why thou wouldest not to the
Westland last winter. I am no fool ; I know thee. Where hast
thou hidden the stranger woman ? "

Therewith he drew forth his sword and hove it aloft as if
to hew down Face-of-god, who spake not nor flinched nor
raised a hand from his side. But the Bride threw herself in
front of Gold-mane, while there arose an angry cry of "The
Peace of the Holy Thing ! Peace-breaking, peace-breakingl "
and some cried, " For the War-leader, the War-leader 1" and
as men could for the press they drew forth their swords, and
there was tumult and noise all over the Thing-stead.

But Stone-face caught hold of the Alderman's right arm
and dragged down the sword, and the big carle, Red-coat of
Waterless, came up behind him and cast his arms about his
middle and drew him back ; and presently he looked around
him, and slowly sheathed his sword, and went back to his
place and sat him down ; and in a little while the noise abated
and swords were sheathed, and men waxed quiet again, and
the Alderman arose and said in a loud voice, but in the
wonted way of the head man of the Thing:

"Here hath been trouble in the Holy Thing; a violent
man hath troubled it, and drawn sword on a neighbour;
will the neighbours give the dooming hereof into the hands
of the Alderman?"

Now all knew Iron-face, and they cried out, "That will
we. 9 * So he spake again :

" I doom the troubler of the Peace of the Holy Thing to
pay a fine, to wit double the blood-wite that would be duly
paid for a full-grown freeman of the kindreds."

Then the cry went up and men yeasaid his doom, and all
said that it was well and fairly doomed; and Iron-face sat
still.

But Stone-face stood forth and said:
182

" Here have been wild words in the air ; and dreams have [The Fiddle
taken shape and come amongst us, and have bewitched us, spcaketh]
so that friends and kin have wrangled. And meseemeth that
this is through the wizardry of these felons, who, even dead
as they are, have cast spells over us. Good it were to cast them
into the Death Tarn, and then to get to our work; for there
is much to do."

All men yeasaid that; and Forkbeard of Lea went with
those who had borne the corpses thither to cast them into
the black pool.

But the Fiddle spake and said :

" Stone-face sayeth sooth. O Alderman, thou art no'young
man, yet am I old enough to be thy father; so will I give thee
a rede, and say this: Face-of-god thy son is no liar or dastard
or beguiler, but he is a young man and exceeding goodly of
fashion, well-spoken and kind; so that few women may look
on him and hear him without desiring his kindness and love,
and to such men as this many things happen. Moreover, he
hath now become our captain, and is a deft warrior with
his hands, and as I deem, a sober and careful leader of men ;
therefore we need him and his courage and his skill of lead-
ing. So rage not against him as if he had done an ill deed not
to be forgiven — whatever he hath done, whereof we know
not — for life is long before him, and most like we shall still
have to thank him for many good deeds towards us. As for
the maiden, she is both lovely and wise. She hath a sorrow
at her heart, and we deem that we know what it is. Yet hath
she not lied when she said that she would bear the burden of
the griefs of the people. Even so shall she do; and whether
she will, or whether she will not, that shall heal her own
griefs. For to-morrow is a new day. Therefore, if thou do
after my rede, thou wilt not meddle betwixt these twain, but
wilt remember all that we have to do, and that war is coming
upon us. And when that is over, we shall turn round and be-
hold each other, and see that we are not wholly what we were
before ; and then shall that which were hard to forgive, be for-
gotten, and that which is remembered be easy to forgive."

So he spake ; and Iron-face sat still and put his left hand to

183

Peace at the his beard as one who pondereth; but the Bride looked in
Thing the face of the old man the Fiddle, and then she turned and

looked at Gold-mane, and her face softened, and she stood
before the Alderman, and bent down before him and held
out both her hands to him the palms upward. Then she said :
" Thou hast been wroth with me, and I marvel not; for thy
hope, and the hope which we all had, hath deceived thee.
But kind indeed hast thou been to me ere now: therefore I
pray thee take it not amiss if I call to thy mind the oath which
thou s wearedst on the Holy Boar last Yule, that thou wouldst
not gainsay the prayer of any man if thou couldest perform
it; therefore I bid thee naysay not mine: and that is, that
thou wilt ask me no more about this matter, but wilt suffer
me to fare afield like any swain of the Dale, and to deal so
with my folk that they shall not hinder me. Also I pray thee
that thou wilt put no shame upon Face-of-god my playmate
and my kinsman, nor show thine anger to him openly, even
if for a little while thy love for him be abated. No more than
this will I ask of thee."

All men who heard her were moved to the heart by her
kindness and the sweetness of her voice, which was like to
the robin singing suddenly on a frosty morning of early
winter. But as for Gold-mane, his heart was smitten sorely
by it, and her sorrow and her friendliness grieved him out
of measure.

But Iron-face answered after a little while, speaking
slowly and hoarsely, and with the shame yet clinging to him
of a man who has been wroth and has speedily let his wrath
run off him. So he said:

" It is well, my daughter. I have no will to forswear my-
self; nor hast thou asked me a thing which is over-hard.
Yet indeed I would that to-day were yesterday, or that many
days were worn away."

Then he stood up and cried in a loud voice over the

throng: "Let none forget the muster; but hold him ready

against the time that the Warden shall come to him. Let all

men obey the War-leader, Face-of-god, without question

184

or delay. As to the fine of the peace-breaker, it shall be laid Men go
on the altar of the God at the Great Folk-mote. Herewith is ^mc from
the Thing broken up." ^ n ° M '

Then all men shouted and clashed their weapons, and so ng
sundered, and went about their business.

And the talk of men it was that the breaking of the troth-
plight between those twain was ill; for they loved Face-of--
god, and as for the Bride they deemed her the Dearest of the
kindreds and the Jewel of the Folk, and as if she were the
fairest and the kindest of all the Gods. Neither did the wrath
of Iron-face mislike any; but they said he had done well and
manly both to be wroth and to let his wrath run off him. As
to the war which was to come, they kept a good heart about
it, and deemed it as a game to be played, wherein they might
show themselves den and valiant, and so get back to their
merry life again.

So wore the day through afternoon to even and night

CHAPTER XXVII. FACE-OF-GOD LEADETH A
BAND THROUGH THE WOOD.

NEXT morning tryst was held faithfully, and an hun-
dred and a halrwere gathered together on Wildlake's
Way ;and Face-of-god ordered them into threecom-
panies. He made Hall-face leader over the first one, and bade
him hold on his way northward, and then to make for Boars-
bait and see if he should meet with anything thereabout
where the battle had been. Red-coat of Waterless he made
captain of the second band; and he had it in charge to wend
eastward along the edge of the Dale, and not to go deep into
the wood, but to go as far as he might within the time ap-
pointed, toward the Mountains. Furthermore, he bade
both Hall-face and Red-coat to bring their bands back to
Wildlake's Way by the morrow at sunset, where other good-
men should be come to take the places of their men ; and
then if he and his company were back again, he would bid
them further what to do; but if not, as seemed likely, then

i8 5

Stone-face in Hall-face's band to go west toward the Shepherd country

the Wood half a day's journey, and so back, and Red-coat's east along

the Dale's lip again for the like time, and then back, so that

there might be a constant watch and ward of the Dale kept

against the Felons.

All being ordered Gold-mane led his own company north-
east through the thick wood, thinking that he might so fare as
to come nigh to Silverdale, or at least to hear tidings there-
of. This intent he told to Stone-face, but the old man shook
his head and said:

"Good is this if it maybe done; but it is not for everyone
to go down to Hell in his lifetime and come back safe with a
tale thereof. However, whither thou wilt lead, thither will
I follow, though assured death waylayeth us."

And the old carle was joyous and proud to be on this ad-
venture, and said, that it was good indeed that his foster-
son had with him a man well stricken in years, who had both
seen many things, and learned many, and had good rede to
give to valiant men.

So they went on their ways, and fared very warily when
they were gotten beyond those parts of the wood which they
knew well. By this time they were strung out in a long line ;
and they noted their road carefully, blazing the trees on either
side when there were trees, and piling up little stone-heaps
where the trees failed them. For Stone-face said that oft it
befell men amidst the thicket and the waste to be misled by
wights that begrudged men their lives, so that they went
round and round in a ring which they might not depart
from till they died; and no man doubted his word herein.

All day they went, and met no foe, nay, no man at all ;
nought but the wild things of the wood ; and that day the
wood changed little about them from mile to mile. There
were many thickets across their road which they had to go
round about; so that to the crow flying over the tree-tops
the journey had not been long to the place where night
came upon them, and where they had to make the wood their
bedchamber.
186

That night they lighted no fire, but ate such cold victual Men seeking
as they might carry with them ; nor had they shot any venison, through the
since they had with them more than enough; they made Wood
little noise or stir therefore and fell asleep when they had
set the watch.

On the morrow they arose betimes, and broke their fast
and went their ways till noon : by then the wood had thinned
somewhat, and there was little underwood betwixt the scrub-
by oak and ash which were pretty nigh all the trees about:
the ground also was broken, and here and there rocky, and
they went into and out of rough little dales, most of which
had in them a brook of water running west and south-west;
and now Face-of-god led his men somewhat more easterly;
and still for some while they met no man.

At last, about four hours after noon, when they were going
less warily, because they had hitherto come across nothing to
hinder them, rising over the brow of a somewhat steep ridge,
they saw down in the valley below thpm a half score of men
sitting by the brook-side eating and drinking, their weapons
lying beside them, and along with them stood a woman with
her hands tied behind her back.

They saw at once that these men were of the Felons, so
they that had their bows bent, loosed at them without more
ado, while the others ran in upon them with sword and spear.
The felons leapt up and ran scattering down the dale, such
of them as were not smitten by the shafts; but he who was
nighest to the woman, ere he ran, turned and caught up a
sword from the ground and thrust it through her, and the
next moment fellacross the brook with an arrow in his back.

No one of the felons was nimble enough to escape from
the fleet-foot hunters of Burgdale, and they were all slain
there to the number of eleven.

But when they came back to the woman to tend her, she
breathed her last in their hands : she was a young and fair
woman, black-haired and dark-eyed. She had on her body
a gown of rich web, but nought else: she had been bruised
and sore mishandled, and the Burgdale carles wept for pity

187

They come of her, and for wrath, as they straightened her limbs on the
upon the foe turf of the little valley. They let her lie there a little, whilst
they searched round about, lest there should be any other
poor soul needing their help, or any felon lurking thereby ;
but they found nought else save a bundle wherein was an-
other rich gown and divers woman's gear, and sundry rings
and jewels, and therewithal the weapons and war-gear of a
knight, delicately wrought after the Westland fashion : these
seemed to them to betoken other foul deeds of these mur-
der-carles. So when they had abided a while, they laid the
dead woman in mould by the brook-side, and buried with
her the other woman's attire and the knight's gear, all but
his sword and shield, which they had away with them : then
they cast the carcasses of the felons into the brake, but
brought away their weapons and the silver rings from their
arms, which they wore like all the others of them whom
they had fallen in with ; and so went on their way to the north-
east, full of wrath against those dastards of the Earth.

It was hard on sunset when they left the valley of murder,
and they went no long way thence before they must needs
make stay for the night; and when they had arrayed their
sleeping-stead the moon was up, and they saw that before
them lay the close wood again, for they had made their lair
on the top of a little ridge.

There then they lay, and nought stirred them in the night,
and betimes on the morrow they were afoot, and entered
the abovesaid thicket, wherein two of them, keen hunters,
had been aforetime, but had not gone deep into it. Through
this wood they went all day toward the north-east, and met
nought but the wild things therein. At last, when it was near
sunset, they came out of the thicket into a small plain, or
shallow dale rather, with no great trees in it, but thorn-
brakes here and there where the ground sank into hol-
lows; a little river ran through the midst of it, and winded
round about a height whose face toward the river went down
sheer into the water, but away from it sank down in a long
slope to where the thick wood began again: and this height
or burg looked well-nigh west.
188

Thitherward they went; but as they were drawing nigh A strange
to the river, and were on the top of a bent above a bushy hoi- man
low between them and the water, they espied a man standing
in the river near the bank, who saw them not, because he was
stooping down intent on something in the bank or under it :
so they gat them speedily down into the hollow without
noise, that they might get some tidings of the man.

Then Face-of-god bade his men abide hidden under the
bushes and stole forward quietly up the further bank of the
hollow, his target on his arm and his spear poised. When he
was behind the last bush on the top of the bent he was with-
in half a spear-cast of the water and the man; so he looked
on him and saw that he was quite naked except for a clout
about his middle.

Face-of-god saw at once that he was not one of the Dusky
Men; he was a black-haired man, but white-skinned, and of
fair stature, though not so tall as the Burgdale folk. He was
busied in tickling trouts, and just as Face-of-god came out
from the bush into the westering sunlight, he threw up a
fish on to the bank, and looked up therewithal, and beheld
the weaponed man glittering, and uttered a cry, but fled not
when he saw the spear poised for casting.

Then Face-of-god spake to him and said: "Come hither,
Woodsman 1 we will not harm thee, but we desire speech of
thee : and it will not avail thee to flee, since I have bowmen of
the best in the hollow yonder."

The man put forth his hands towards him as if pray ing him
to forbear casting, and looked at him hard, and then came
dripping from out the water, and seemed not greatly afeard ;
for he stooped down and picked up the trouts he had taken,
and came towards Face-of-god stringing the last-caught one
through the gills on to the withy whereon were the others:
and Face-of-god saw that he was a goodly man of some thirty
winters.

Then Face-of-god looked on him with friendly eyes and
said : " Art thou a foeman? or wilt thou be helpful to us?"

He answered in the speech of the kindreds with the hoarse
voice of a much weather-beaten man:

189

A runaway "Thou secst, lord, that I am naked and unarmed."
thrall " Yet mayst thou bewray us," said Face-of-god. " What

man art thou?"

Said the man: "I am the runaway thrall of evil men; I
have fled from Rosedale and the Dusky Men. Hast thou the
heart to hurt me?"

"We are the foemen of the Dusky Men," said Face-of-
god; "wilt thou help us against them?"

The man knit his brows and said : c< Yea, if ye will give me
your word not to suffer me to fall into their hands alive. But
whence art thou, to be so bold?"

Said Face-of-god: <c We are of Burgdale;and I will swear
to thee on the edge of the sword that thou shalt not fall alive
into the hands of the Dusky Men."

"Of Burgdale have I heard," said the man; "and in sooth
thou seemest not such a man as would bewray a hapless man.
But now had I best bring you to some lurking-place where
ye shall not be easily found of these devils, who now oft-times
scour the woods hereabout."

Said Face-of-god: "Come first and see my fellows; and
then if thou thinkest we have need to hide, it is well."

So the man went side by side with him towards their lair,
and as they went Gold-mane noted marks of stripes on his
back and sides, and said : " Sorely hast thou been mishandled,
poor man 1"

Then the man turned on him and said somewhat fiercely:
" Said I not that I had been a thrall of the Dusky Men? how
then should I have escaped tormentingand scourging, if I had
been with them for but three days?"

As he spake they came about a thorn-bush, and there were
the Burgdale men down in the hollow; and the man said:
" Are these thy fellows? Call to mind that thou hast sworn by
the edge of the sword not to hurt me."

"Poor man!" said Face-of-god; "these are thy friends,
unless thou bewrayest us."

Then he cried aloud to his folk: "Here is now a good hap 1
this is a runaway thrall of the Dusky Men; of him shall we
hear tidings; so cherish him all ye may."
190

So the carles thronged about him and bestirred themselves The runa-
to help him, and one gave him his surcoat for a kirtle, and WZ Y amongst
another cast a cloak about him; and they brought him meat ^ Dales "
and drink, such as they had ready to hand : and die man look- men
ed as if he scarce believed in all this, but deemed himself to
be in a dream. But presently he turned to Face-of-god and
said:

" Now I see so many men and weapons I deem that ye have
no need to skulk in caves to-night, though I know of good
ones: yet shall ye do well not to light a fire till moon-setting;
for the flame ye may lightly hide, but the smoke may be seen
from far aloof."

But they bade him to meat, and he needed no second bid-
ding but ate lustily, and they gave him wine, and he drank a
great draught and sighed as for joy* Then he said in a tremb-
ling voice, as though he feared a naysay :

"If ye are from Burgdale ye shall be faring back again
presently; and I pray you to take me with you."

Said Face-of-god : " Yea surely, friend, that will we do,
and rejoice in thee/'

Then he drank another cup which Warcliflfheld out to him,
and spake again: "Yet if ye would abide here till about noon
to-morrow, or mayhappen a little later, I would bring other
runaways to see you ; and them also might ye take with you :
ye may think when ye see them that ye shall have small gain
of their company; for poor wretched folk they be, like to
myself. Yet since ye seek for tidings, herein might they do
you more service than I ; for amongst them are some who
came out of the hapless Dale within this moon; and it is six
months since I escaped. Moreover, though they may look
spent and outworn now, yet if ye give them a little rest, and
feed them well, they shall yet do many a day's work for you:
and I tell you that if ye take them for thralls, and put collars
on their necks, and use them no worse than a good man use th
his oxen and his asses, beating them not save when they are
idle or at fault, it shall be to them as if they were come to
heaven out of hell, and to such goodhap as they have not
thought of, save in dreams, for many and many a day. And

191

He prayeth
to be taken to
Burgdale
with other
runaways

They make
much of the
runaway

thus I entreat you to do because ye seem to me to be happy
and merciful men, who will not begrudge us this happiness. *

The carles of Burgdale listened eagerly to what he said,
and they looked at him with great eyes and marvelled ; and
their hearts were moved with pity towards him ; and Stone-
face said:

" Herein, O War-leader, need I give thee no rede, for thou
mayst see dearly that all we deem that we should lose our
manhood and become the dastards of the Warrior if we did
not abide the coming of these poor men, and take them back
to the Dale, and cherish them."

"Yea," said Wolf of Whitegarth, "and great thanks we
owe to this man that he biddeth us this: for great will be the
gain to us if we become so like the Gods that we may deliver
the poor from misery. Now must I needs think how they
shall wonder when they come to Burgdale and find out how
happy it is to dwell there."

"Surely," said Face-of-god, "thus shall we do, whatever
cometh of it. But, friend of the wood, as to thralls, there be
none such in the Dale, but therein are all men friends and
neighbours, and even so shall ye be."

And he fell a-musing, when he bethought him of how little
he had known of sorrow.

But that man, when he beheld the happy faces of the Burg-
dalers, and hearkened to their friendly voices, and under-
stood what they said, and he also was become strong with the
meat and drink, he bowed his head adown and wept a long
while; and they meddled not with him, till he turned again
to them and said :

" Since ye are in arms, and seem to be seeking your foemen,
I suppose ye wot that these tyrants and man-quellers will fall
upon you in Burgdale ere the summer is well worn."

"So much we deem indeed," said Face-of-god, "but we
were fain to hear the certainty of it, and how thou knowest
thereof."

Said the man : " It was six moons ago that I fled, as I have
told you ; and even then it was the common talk amongst our
masters that there were fair dales to the south which they
192

would overrun. Man would say to man : We were over many Supper in
in Silverdale, and we needed more thralls, because those we the perilous
had were lessening, and especially the women ; now are we w 00 ^ 311 ^
more at ease in Rosedale, though we have sent thralls to
Silverdale; but yet we can bear no more men from thence to
eat up our stock from us: let them fare south to the happy
dales, and conquer them, and we will go with them and help
therein, whether we come back to Rosedale or no. Such talk
did I hear then with mine own ears : but some of those whom
I shall bring to you to-morrow shall know better what is do-
ing, since they have fled from Rosedale but a few days. More-
over, there is a man and a woman who have fled from Silver-
dale itself,and are but a month from it, journeying all the time
save when they must needs hide; and these say that their
masters have got to knowthe ways to Burgdale,and are mind-
ed for it before the winter, as I said; and nought else but the
ways thither do they desire to know, since they have no fear. ' '
By then was nigh t come, and though the moon was high in
heaven, and lighted all that waste, the Burgdalers must needs
light a fire for cooking their meat, whatsoever that woodsman
m lght say ;moreover,the night was cold and somewhat frosty.
A little before they had come to that place they had shot a fat
buck and some smaller deer, but of other meat they had no

treat store, though there was wine enough. So they lit their
re in the thickest of the thorn-bush to hide it all they might,
and thereat they cooked their venison and the trouts which
the runaway had taken, and they fell to, and ate and drank and
were merry, making much of that poor man till him-seemed
he was gotten into the company of the kindest of the Gods.

But when they were full, Face-of-god spake to him, and
asked him his name; and he named himself Dallach; but said
he: "Lord, this is according to the naming of men in Rose-
dale before we were enthralled: but now what names have
thralls ? Also I am not altogether of the blood of them of Rose-
dale, but of better and more warrior-like kin."

Said Face-of-god: "Thou hast named Silverdale; know-
estthouit?"

Dallach answered : " I have never seen it. It is for hence ; in
xv.o 193

Dallach tells a week's journey, making all diligence) and not being forced
his tale to hide and skulk like those runaways, ye shall come to the

mouth thereof lying west, where its rock-walls fall off to ward
the plain."

"But," said Face-of-god, " is there no other.way into that
Dale?"

" Nay, none that folk wot of," said Dallach, "except to bold
cragsmen with their lives in their hands."

"Knowest thou aught of the affairs of Silverdale?" said
Face-of-god.

Said Dallach: "Somewhat I know: we wot that but a few
years ago there was a valiant folk dwelling therein, who were
lords of the whole dale, and that they were vanquished by the
Dusky Men : but whether they were all slain and enthralled
we wot not; but we deem it otherwise. As for me it is of their
blood that I am partly come; for my father's father came
thence to settle in Rosedale, and wedded a woman of the
Dale, who was my father's mother."

"When was it that ye fell under the Dusky Men?" said
Face-of-god.

Said Dallach : " It was five years ago. They came into the
Dale a great company, all in arms."

" Was there battle betwixt you? " said Face-of-god.

"Alas ! not so," said Dallach. "We were a happy folk there ;
but soft and delicate : for the Dale is exceeding fertile, and
beareth wealth in abundance, both corn and oil and wine and
fruit, and of beasts for man's service the best that may be.
Would that there had been battle, and that I had died therein
with those that had a heart to fight; and even so saith now
every man, yea, every woman in the Dale. But it was not so
when the elders met in our Council-House on the day when
the Dusky Men bade us pay them tribute and give them
houses to dwell in and lands to live by. Then had we weapons
in our hands, but no hearts to use them."

"What befell then?" said the goodman of Whitegarth.

Said Dallach: "Look ye to it, lords, that it befall not in
Burgdale! We gave them all they asked for, and deemed we
194

had much left. What befell, sayst thou ? We sat quiet ; we went A thrall's tale

about our work in fear and trembling, for grim and hideous

were they to look on. At first they meddled not much with

us, save to take from our houses what they would of meat and

drink, or raiment, or plenishing. And all this we deemed we

might bear, and that we needed no more than to toil a little

more each day so as to win somewhat more of wealth. But

soon we found that it would not be so; for they had no mind

to till the teeming earth or work in the acres we had given

them, or to sit at the loom, or hammer in the stithy, or do any

manlike work; it was we that must do all that for their behoof,

and it was altogether for them that we laboured, and nought

for ourselves ; and our bodies were only so much our own as

they were needful to be kept alive for labour. Herein were

our tasks harder than the toil of any mules or asses, save for

the younger and goodlier of the women, whom they would

keep fair and delicate to be their bed-thralls.

" Yet not even so were our bodies safe from their malice :
for these men were not only tyrants, but fools and madmen.
Let alone that there were few days without stripes and tor-
ments to satiate their fury or their plea su re, so that in all streets
and nigh any house might you hear wailing and screaming
and groaning; but moreover, though a wise man would not
willingly slay his own thrall any more than his own horse or
ox, yet did these men so wax in folly and malice, that they
would often hew at man or woman as they met them in the
way from mere grimness of soul ; and if they slew them it was
well. Thereof indeed came quarrels enough betwixt master
and master, for they are much given to man-slay ingamongst
themselves: but what profit to us thereof? Nay, if the dead
man were a chieftain, then woe betide the thralls! for thereof
must many an one be slain on his grave-mound to serve him
on the hell-road. To be short: we have heard of men who be
fierce, and men who be grim ; but these we may scarce believe
to be men at all, but trolls rather; and ill will it be if their race
waxeth in the world."

The Burgdale men hearkened with all their ears, and won-
02 195

Dallach far-
ethtoseek
his fellows

dered that such things could befall; and they rejoiced at the
work that lay before them, and their hearts rose high at the
though tofbattle in that behalf,and the fame that should come
of it. As for the runaway, they made so much of him that the
man marvelled ; for they dealt with him like a woman cher-
ishing a son, and knew not how to be kind endugh to him.

CHAPTER XXVIII. THE MEN OF BURGDALE
MEET THE RUNAWAYS.

NOW ere the night was far spent, Dallach arose and
said: " Kind folk, ye will presently be sleeping; but I
bid you keep a good watch, and if ye will be ruled by
me, ye will kindle no fire on the morrow, for the smoke riseth
thick in the morning air, and is as a beacon. As for me, I shall
leave you here to rest, and I myself will fare on mine errand."
They bade him sleep and rest him after so many toils and
hardships, saying that they were not tied to an hour to be back
in BurgdaJe ; but he said : " Nay, the moon is high, and it is as
good as daylight to me, who could find my way even by star-
light; and your tarrying here is nowise safe. Moreover, if I
could find thosefolk and bring them part of the way by night
and cloud it were well; for if we were taken again, burning
quick would be the best death by which we should die. As for
mc,nowam I strong with meatanddrinkandhope;and when
I come toBurgdale there will be time enough for resting and
slumber."

Said Face-of-god : "Shall I not wend with thee to see these
people and the lairs wherein they hide?"

The man smiled : " Nay, earl," said he, " that shall not be.
For wot ye what ? If they were to see me in company of a man-
at-arms they would deem that I was bringing the foe upon
them, and would flee, or mayhappen would fall upon us. For
as for me, when I saw thee, thou wert close anigh me, so I
knew thee to be no Dusky Man ; but they would see the glit-
ter of thine arms from afar, and to them all weaponed men are
foemen. Thou, lord, kno west not the heart of a thrall, nor the
196

fear and doubt that is in it. Nay, I myself must cast off these Face-of-god
clothes that ye have given me, and rare naked, lest they mis- and Stone-
trust me. Only I will take a spear in my hand, and sling a knife * ce |° up
round my neck, if ye will give them to me ; for if the worst
happen, I will not be taken alive."

Therewith he cast off his raiment, and they gave him the
weapons and wished him good speed, and he went his way
'twixt moonlight and shadow; but the Burgdalers went to
sleep when they had set a watch.

Early in the morning they awoke, and the sun was shining
and the thrushes singing in the thorn-brake, and all seemed
fair and peaceful, and a little haze still hung about the face of
the burg over the river. So they went down to the water and
washed the night from off them ; and thence the most part of
them went back to their lair among the thorn-bushes :but four
of them went up the dale into the oak-wood to shoot a buck,
andfivemore they sent out to watch their skirts around them ;
and Face-of-god with old Stone-face went over a ford of the
stream, and came on to the lower slope of the burg, and so
went up it to the top. Thence they looked about to see if aught
were stirring, but they saw little save the waste and the wood,
which on the north-east was thick of big trees stretching out
a long way. Their own lair was clear to see over its bank and
the bushes thereof, and that misliked Face-of-god, lest any
foe should climb the burg that day. The morning was clear,
and Face-of-god looking north-and-by-west deemed he saw
smoke rising into the air over the tree-covered ridges that
hid the further distance toward that airt, though further east
uphove the black shoulders of the Great Waste and thesnowy
peaks behind them. The said smoke was not such as cometh
from one great fire, but was like a thin veil staining the pale
blue sky, as when men are burning ling on the heath-side and
it is seen aloof.

He showed that smoke to Stone-face, who smiled and said :
" Now will they be lighting the cooking-fires in Rosedale :
would I were there with a few hundreds of axes and staves at
my back!"

197

The elves " Yea," said Face-of-god, smiling in his face, " but where

that love the I pray thee are these elves and wood-wights, that we meet
vanquished them not? Grim things there are in the woods, and things
them W1 **ir enough also : but meseemeth that the trolls and the elves
of thy young years have been frighted away."

Said Stone-face: "Maybe, foster-son; that hath been seen
ere now, that when one raceof man over runneth the land in-
habited by another, the wights and elves that love the van-
quished are seen no more, or get them away far off into the
outermost wilds, where few men ever come."

"Yea," said Face-of-god, "that may well be. Butdeemest
thou by that token that we shall be vanquished? "

"As for us, I know not," said Stone-face ; " but thy friends
of Shadowy Valehave been vanquished. Moreover, concern-
ing these felons whom now we are hunting, are we all so sure
that they be men? Certain it is, that when I go into battle with
them, I shall smite with no more pity than my sword, as if I
were smiting things that may not feel the woes of man."

Said Face-of-god: "Yea, even so shall it be with me. But
what thinkest thouof these runaways? Shall we have tidings
of them, or shall Dallach bring the foe upon us? It was for
the sake of that question that I have clomb the burg: and that
we might watch the land about us."

"Nay," said Stone-face, " I have seen many men, and I
deem of Dallach that he is a true man. I deem we shall soon
have tidings of his fellows; and they may have seen the elves
and wood-wights: I would fain ask them thereof, and am
eager to see them."

Said Face-of-god: "And I somewhat dread to see them,
and their rags and their misery and the weals of their stripes.
It irked me to see Dallach when he first fell to his meat last
night, how he ate like a dog for fear and famine. How shall
it be, moreover, when we have them in the Dale, and they
fall to the deed of kind there, as they needs must. Will they
not bear us evil and thrall-like menr "

" Maybe," said Stone-face, "and maybe not ; for they have
been thralls but for a little while : and I deem that in no long
198

time shall ye see them much bettered by plenteous meat and They sec the
rest And after all is said, this Dallach bore him like a valiant new-comers
man ; also it was valiant of him to flee; and of the others may *j° m Ac
ye say the like. But look you! there are men going down urg
yonder towards our lair: belike those shall be our guests, and
there be no Dusky Men amongst them. Come, let us home! "

So Face-of-god looked and beheld from the height of the
burg shapes of men grey and colourless creeping toward the
lair from sunshine to shadow, like wild creatures shy and
fearful of the hunter, or so he deemed of them.

So he turned away, angry and sad of heart, and the twain
wentdowntheburgandacrossthewatertotheircamp,having
seen little to tell of from the height.

When they came to their campment there were their folk
standing in a ring round about Dallach and the other run-
aways. They made way for the War-leader and Stone-face,
who came amongst them and beheld the Runaways, that they
were many more than they looked to see; for they were of
carles one score and three, and of women eighteen, all told
save Dallach. When they saw those twain come through the
ring of men and perceived that they were chieftains, some of
them fell down on their knees before them and held out their
joined hands to them, and kissed the Burgdalers' feet and
the hems of their garments, while the tears streamed out of
their eyes : some stood moving little and staring before them
stupidly: and some kept glancing from face to face of the
well-liking happy Burgdale carles, though for a while even
their faces were sad and downcast at the sight of the poor men :
some also kept murmuring one or two words in their country
tongue, and Dallach told Face-of-god that these were crying
out for victual.

It must be said of these poor folk that they were of divers
conditions, and chiefly of three: and first there were seven of
Rosedale and five of Silverdale late come to the wood (of
these Silverdalers Dallach had told but of two, for the other
three were but justcome). Of these twelvewereseven women,
and all, save two of the women, were clad in one scanty kirtle

199

Tokens of or shirt only; for such was the wont of the Dusky Men with
heavy thrall- their thralls. They had brought away weapons, and had
om amongst them six axes and a spear, and a sword, and five

knives, and one man had a shield.

Yet though these were clad and armed, yet in some wise
were they the worst of all ;they wereso timorous and cringing,
and most of them heavy-eyed and sullen and down-looking.
Many of them had been grievously mishandled : one man had
had his left hand smitten off; another was docked of three of
his toes, and the gristle of his nose slit up; one was halt, and
four had been ear-cropped, nor did any lack weals of whip-
ping. Of the Silverdale new-comers the three men were the
worst of all the Runaways, with wild wandering eyes, but
sullen also, and cringing if any drew nigh, and would not look
anyone in the face, save presently Face-of-god, on whom
they were soon fond to fawn, as a dog on his master. But the
women who were with them, and who were well-nigh as
timorous as the men, were those two gaily-clad ones, and
they were soft-handed and white-skinned, save for the last
days of weather in the wood; for they had been bed-thralls
of the Dusky Men.

Such were the new-comers to the wood. But others had
been, like Dallach, months therein; it may be said that there
were eighteen of these, carles and queens together. Little
raiment they had amongst them, and some were all but stark
naked, so that on these might well be seen as on Dallach the
marks of old stripes, and of these also were there men who
had been shorn of some member or other, and they were all
burnt and blackened by the weather of the woodland; yet for
all their nakedness, they bore themselves bolder and more
manlike than the later comers, nor did they altogether lack
weapons taken from their foemen, and most of them had
some edge-tool or another. Of these folk were four from
Silverdale, though Dallach knew it not.

Besides these were a half score and one who had been years
in the wood instead of months; weather-beaten indeed were
these, shaggy and rough-skinned like wild men of kind.
200

Some of them had made themselves skin breeches or clouts. The best of
some went stark naked ; of weapons of the Dale had they few, the Runa-
but they bore bows of hazel or wych-elm strung with deer- wa J r *
gut, and shafts headed with flint stones; staves al$o of the
same fashion, and great clubs of oak or holly: some of them
also had made them targets of skin and willow-twigs, for
these were the warriors of the Runaways : they had a few steel
knives amongst them, but had mostly learned the craft of
using sharp flints for knives: but four of these were women.

Three of these men were of the kindreds of the Wolf from
Sil verdale, and had been in the wood for hard upon ten years,
and wild as they were, and without hope of meeting their
fellows again, they went proudly and boldly amongst the
others, overtopping them by the head and more. For the
greater part ot these men were somewhat short of stature,
though by nature strong and stout of body.

It must be told that though Dallach had thus gotten all
these many Runaways together, yet had they not been dwell-
ing together as one folk; for they durst not, lest the Dusky
Men should hear thereof and fall upon them, but they had
kept themselves as best they could in caves and in brakes
three together or two, or even faring alone as Dallach did:
only as he was a strong and stout-hearted man, he went to and
fro and wandered about more than the others, so that he fore-
gathered with most of them and knew them. He said also that
he doubted not but that there were more Runaways in the
wood, but these were all he could come at. Divers who had
fled had died from time to time, and some had been caught
and cruelly slain by their masters. They were none of them
old; the oldest, said Dallach, scant of forty winters, though
many from their asped might have been old enough.

So Face-of-god looked and beheld all these poor people;
and said to himself, that he might well havedreaded that sight.
For here was he brought face to face with the Sorrow ofthe
Earth, whereof he had known nought heretofore, save it
might be as a tale in a minstrel's song. And when he
thought of the minutes that had made the hours, and the

20 1

The Runa- hours that had made the days that these men had passed
ways feasted through, his heart failed him, and he was dumb and might
"**ke not speaj^ though he perceived that the men of Burgdale

looked for speech from him ; but he waved his hand to his folk,
and they understood him, for they had heard Dallach say that
some of them were crying for vi&ual. So they set to work and
dighted for them such meat as they had, and they set them
down on the grass and made themselves their carvers and
serving-men, and bade them eat what they would of such as
there was. Yet, indeed, it grieved the Burgdalers again to note
how these folk were driven to eat ;for they themselves, though
they were merry folk, were exceeding courteous at table, and
of great observance of manners: whereas these poor Runa-
ways ate, some of them like hungry dogs, and some hiding
their meat as if they feared it should be taken from them, and
some cowering over it like falcons, and scarce any with a man-
like pleasure in their meal. And, their eating over, the more
part of them sat dull and mopish, and as if allthings were for-
gotten for the time present.

Albeit presently Dallach bestirred him and said to Face-
of-god: "Lord or the Earl-folk, if I might give thee rede, it
were best to turn your faces to Burgdale without more tarry-
ing. For we are over-nigh to Rosedale, being but thus many
in company. But when we come to our next resting-place, then
shall I bring thee to speech with the last-comers from Silver-
dale; for there they talk with the tongue of the kindreds; but
we of Rosedale for the more part talk otherwise; though in
my house it came down from father to son.* 9

"Yea," said Face-of-god, gazing still on that unhappy folk,
as they sat or lay upon the grass at rest for a little while: but
him-seemed as he gazed that some memories of past time
stirred in some of them ; for some, they hung their heads and
the tears stole out of their eyes and rolled down their cheeks.
But those older Runaways of Silver dale were not crouched
down like most of the others, but strode up and down like
beasts in a den; yet were the tears on the face of one of these.
Then Face-of-god constrained himself, and spake to the folk,
202

and said : c< We are now over-nigh to our foes of Rosedale to They turn
lie here any longer, being too few to fall upon them. We will about t0
come hither again with a host when we have duly questioned Bur 8 <ialc
these men who have sought refuge with us: and let us call
yonder height the Burg of the Runaways, and it shall be a
landmark for us when we are on the road to Rosedale."

Then the Burgdalers bade the Runaways courteously and
kindly to arise and take the road with them ; and by that time
were their men all come in ; and fourof them had venison with
them, which was needful, if they were to eat that night or the
morrow, as the guests had eaten them to the bone.

So they tarried no more, but set out on the homeward way ;
and Face-of-god bade Dallach walk beside him, and asked
him much concerning Rosedale and its Dusky Men. Dallach
told him that these were not so many as they were masterful,
not being above eight hundreds of men, all fighting-men. As
to women, they had none of their own race, but lay with the
Daleswomen at their will, and begat children of them ; and all
or most of the said children favoured the race of their beget-
ters. Of the men-children they reared most, but the women-
children they slew at once ; for they valued not women of their
own blood: but besides the women of the Dale, they would
go at whiles in bands to the edges of the Plain and beguile
wayfarers, and bring back with them thence women to be
their bed-thralls; albeit some of these were bought with a
price from the Westland men.

As to the number of the folk of Rosedale, its own folk, he
said they would number some five thousand souls, one with
another ; of whom some thousand might befit to bear arms if
they had the heart thereto,as they had none. Yet being closely

5|uestioned, he deemed that they might fall on their masters
rom behind, if battle were joined.

He said that the folk of Rosedale had been a goodly folk
before they were enthralled, and peaceable with one another,
but that now it was a sport of the Dusky Men to set a match
between their thralls to fight it out with sword and buckler or
otherwise ; and the vanquished man, if he were not sore hurt,

203

Dallach tells they would scourge,or shear some member from him,or even
of the griefc slay him outright, if the match between the owners were so
of Rosedale ma d e- And many other sad and grievous tales he told to Face-

of-god, more than need be told again ; so that the War-leader
went along sorry and angry, with his teeth set, and his hand
on the sword-hilt.

Thus they went till night fell on them, and they could
scarce see the signs they had made on their outward journey.
Then they made stay in a little valley, having set a watch duly ;
and since they were by this time far from Rosedale, and were
a great company as regarded scattered bands of the foe, they
lighted their fires and cooked their venison, and made good
cheer to the Runaways, and so went to sleep in the wild-
wood.

When morning was come they gat them at once to the road ;
and if the Burgdalers were eager to be out of the wood, their
eagerness was as nought to the eagerness of the Runaways,
most of whom could not be easy now, and deemed every
minute lost unless they were wending on to the Dale ; so that
this day they were willing to get over the more ground, where-
as they had not set out on their road till afternoon yesterday.
Howsoever, they rested at noontide, and Face-of-god
bade Dallach bring him to speech with others of the Runa-
ways, and first that he might talk with those three men of
the kindreds who had fled from Silverdale in early days. So
Dallach brought them to him ; but he found that though they
spake the tongue, they were so few-spoken from wildness
and loneliness, at least at first, that nought could come from
them that was not dragged from them.

These men said that they had been in the wood more than
nine years, so that they knew but little of the conditions of
the Dale in that present day. However, as to what Dallach
had said concerning the Dusky Men, they strengthened his
words; and they said that the Dusky Men took no delight
save in beholding torments and misery, and that they doubt-
ed if they were men or trolls. They said that since they had
dwelt in the wood they had slain not a few of the foemen,
204

waylaying them as occasion served, but that in this warfare Three runa-
they had lost two of their felllows. When Face-of-god asked ways of the
them of their deeming of the numbers of the Dusky Men, kindrcd8
they said that before those bands had broken into Rosedale,
they counted them, as far as they could call to mind, at about
three thousand men, all warriors; and that somewhat less
than one thousand had gone up into Rosedale, and some had
died, and many had been cast away in the wild-wood, their
fellows knew not how. Yet had not their numbers in Silver-
dale diminished; because two years after they (the speakers)
had fled, came three more Dusky Companies or Tribes into
Silverdale, and each of these tribes was of three long hun-
dreds; and with their coming had the cruelty and misery
much increased in the Dale, so that the thralls began to die
fast; and that drave the Dusky Men beyond the borders of
Silverdale, so that they fell upon Rosedale. When asked
how many of the kindreds might yet be abiding in Silver-
dale, their faces clouded, and they seemed exceeding wroth,
and answered, that they would willingly hope that most of
those that had not been slain at the time of the overthrow
were now dead, yet indeed they feared there were yet some
alive, and mayhappen not a few women.

By then must they get on foot again, and so the talk fell
between them; but when they made stay for the night, after
they had done their meat, Face-of-god prayed Dallach bring
to him some of the latest-come folk from Silverdale, and he
brought to him the man and the woman who had been in the
Dale within that moon. As to the man, if those of the Earl-
folk had been few-spoken from fierceness and wildness, he
was no less so from mere dulness and weariness of misery ;
but the woman's tongue went glibly enough, and it seemed
to pleasure her to talk about her past miseries. As aforesaid,
she was better clad than most of those of Rosedale, and in-
deed might be called gaily clad, and where her raiment was
befouled or rent, it was from the roughness of the wood and
its weather, and not from the thrall dom. She was a young and
fair woman, black-haired and grey-eyed. She had washed

205

A fair woman herself that day in a woodland stream which they had crossed
on the road, and had arrayed her garments as trimly as she
might, and had plucked some fumitory, wherewith she had
made a garland for her head. She sat down on the grass in
front of Face-of-god, while the man her mate stood leaning
against a tree and looked on her greedily. The Burgdale carles
drew near to her to hearken her story, and looked kindly on
the twain. She smiled on them, but especially on Face-of-god,
and said:

" Thou hast sent for me, lord, and I wot well thou wouldst
hear my tale shortly, for it would be long to tell if I were to
tell it fully, and bring into it all that I have endured, which has
been bitter enough, for all that ye see me smooth of skin and
well-liking of body. I have been the bed-thrall of one of the
chieftains of the Dusky Men, at whose house many of their
great men would assemble, so that ye may ask me whatso ye
will; as I have heard much talk and may call it to mind. Now
if ye ask me whether I have fled because of the shame that I,
a tree woman come of free folk, should be a mere thrall in
the bed of the foes of my kin, and with no price paid for me,
I must needs say it is not so; since over long have we of the
Dale been thralls to be ashamed of such a matter. And again,
if ye dee m that I have fled because I have been burdened with
grievous toil and been driven thereto by the whip, ye may
look on my hands and my body and ye will see that I have
toiled little therewith: nor again did I flee because I could
not endure a few stripes now and again; for such usage do
thralls look for, even when they are delicately kept for the
sake of the fairness of their bodies, and this they may well
endure; yea also, and the mere fear of death by torment now
and again. But before me lay death both assured and horrible ;
so I took mine own counsel, and told none for fear of be-
wrayal, save him who guarded me; and that was this man;
who fled not from fear, but from love of me, and to him I have
given all that I might give. So we got out of the house and
down the Dale by nightand cloud, and hid for one whole day
in the Dale itself, where 1 trembled and feared, so that I
206

deemed I should die of fear; but this man was well pleased How she fled
with my company, and with the lack of toil and beating even
for the day. And in the night again we fled and reached the
wild-wood before dawn, and well-nigh fell into the hands of
those who were hunting us, and had outgone us the day be-
fore, as we lay hid. Well, what is to say ? They saw us not, else
had we not been here, but scattered piece-meal over the land.
This carle knew the passes of the wood, because he had
followed his master therein, who was a great hunter in the
wastes, contrary to the wont of these men, and he had lain a
night on the burg yonder; therefore he brought me thither,
because he knew that thereabout was plenty of prey easy to
take, and he had a bow with him ; and there we fell in with
others of our folk who had fled before, and with Dallach;
who e'en now told us what was hard to believe, that there
was a fair young man like one of the Gods leading a band of
goodly warriors, and seeking for us to bring us into a peace-
ful and happy land; and this man would not have gone with
him because he feared that he might fall into thralldom of
other folk, who would take me away from him ; but for me,
I said I would go in any case, for I was weary of the wood and
its roughness and toil, and that if I had a new master he would
scarcely be worse than my old one was at his best, and him I
could endure. So I went, and glad and glad I am, whatever
ye will do with me. And now will I answer whatso ye may ask
of me."

She laid her limbs together daintily and looked fondly on
Face-of-god, and the carle scowled at her somewhat at first,
but presently, as he watched her, his face smoothed itself out
of its wrinkles.

But Face-of-god pondered a little while, and then asked
the woman if she had heard any words to remember of late
days concerning the affairs of the Dusky Men and their in-
tent; and he said:

c< I pray thee, sister, be truthful in thine answer, for some-
what lieth on it."

She said : " How could I speak aught but the sooth to thee,

207

A threat of a
Dusky Lord

Funeral
fashions of
the Dusky
Men

O lovely lord? The last word spoken hereof I mind me well:
for my master had been mishandling me, and I was sullen to
him after the smart, and he mocked and jeered me, and said:
Ye women deem we cannot do without you, but ye are fools,
and know nothing ; we are going to conquer a new land where
the women are plenty, and far fairer than ye be; and we shall
leave you to fere afield like the other thralls, or work in the
digging of silver; and belike ye wot what that meaneth. Also
he said that they would leave us to the new tribe of their folk,
far wilder than they, whom they looked for in the Dale in
about a moon's wearing; so that they needs must seek to
other lands. Also this same talk would we hear whenever it
pleased any of them to mock us their bed-thralls. Now, my
sweet lord, this is nought but the very sooth."

Again spake Face-of-god after a while :

" Tell me, sister, hast thou heard of any of the Dusky Men
being slain in the wood? "

" Yea," she said, and turned pale therewith and caught her
breath as one choking; but said in a little while:

"This alone was it hard forme to tell thee amongst all the
griefs I have borne, whereof I might have told thee many
tales, and will do one day if thou wilt suffer it ; but fear makes
this hard for me. For in very sooth this was the cause of my
fleeing, that my master was brought in slain by an arrow in
the wood; and he was to be borne to bale and burned in three
days' wearing; and we three bed-thralls of his, and three of
the best of the men-thralls, were to be burned quick on his
bale-fire after sore torments ; therefore I fled, and hid a knife
in my bosom, that I might not be taken alive; but sweet was
life to me, and belike I should not have smitten myself."

And she wept sore for pity of herself before them all. But
Face-of-god said :

" Knowest thou, sister, by whom the man was slain? "

"Nay," she said, still sobbing; "but I heardnought there-
of, nor had I noted it in my terror. The death of others, who
were slain before him, and the loss of many, we knew not
how, made them more bitterly cruel with us."
208

And again was she weeping; but Face-of-god said kindly Out of the
to her : " Weep no more, sister, for now shall all thy troubles wood again
be over : I feel in my heart that we shall overcome these felons,
and make an end or them, and there then is Burgdale for thee
in its length and breadth, or thine own Dale to dwell in
freely."

" Nay," she said, " never will I go back thither! " and she
turned round to him and kissed his feet, and then arose and
turned a little toward her mate; and the carle caught her by
the hand and led her away, and seemed glad so to do.

So once again they fell asleep in the woods, and again the
next morning fared on their way early that they might come
into Burgdale before nightfall. When they stayed a while at
noontide and ate, Face-of-god again had talk with the Run-
aways, and this time with those of Rosedale, and he heard
much the same story from them that he had heard before,
told in divers ways, till his heart was sick with the hearing
of it.

On this last day Face-of-god led his men well athwart the
wood, so that he hit Wildlake's Way without coming to
Carlstead ; and he came down into the Dale some four hours
after noon on a bright day of latter March. At the ingate to
the Dale he found watches set, the men whereof told him
that the tidings were not right great. Hall-face's company
had fallen in with a band of the Felons threescore in number
in the oak-wood nigh to Boars-bait, and had slain some and
chased the rest, since they found it hard to follow them home
as they ran for the tangled thicket: of the Burgdalers had
two been slain and five hurt in this battle.

As for Red-coat's company, they had fallen in with no
foemen.

xv. p 209

The min-
strelsy com-
eth to sing
them into
Burgstead

CHAP. XXIX. THEY BRING THE RUNAWAYS
TO BURGSTEAD.

SO now being out of the wood, they went peaceably and
safely along the Portway, the Runaways mingling with
the Dalesmen. Strange showed amidst the health and
wealth of the Dale the rags and misery and nakedness of the
thralls, like a dream amidst the trim gaiety of spring; and
whomsoever they met, or came up with on the road, whatso
his business might be, could not refrain himself from follow-
ing them, but mingled with the men-at-arms, and asked them
of the tidings; and when they heard who these poor people
were, even delivered thralls of the Foemen, they were glad
at heart and cried out for joy ; and many of the women, nay,
of the men also, when they first came across that misery from
out the heart of their own pleasant life, wept for pity and love
of the poor folk, now at last set free, and blessed the swords
that should do the like by the whole people.

They wen t slowly as men began to gather about them ; yea,
some of the good folk that lived hard by must needs fare
home to their houses to fetch cakes and wine for the guests;
and they made them sit down and rest on the green grass by
the side of the Portway, and eat and drink to cheer their
hearts ; others, women and young swains, while they rested
went down into the meadows and plucked of the spring
flowers, and twined them hastily with deft and well-wont
fingers into chaplets and garlands for their heads and bodies.
Thus indeed they covered their nakedness, till the lowering
faces and weather-beaten skins of those hardly-entreated
thralls looked grimly out from amidst the knots of cowslip
and oxlip, and the branches of the milk-white blackthorn
bloom, and the long trumpets of the daffodils, of the hue that
wrappeth round the quill which the webster takes in hand
when she would pleasure her soul with the sight of the yel-
low growing upon the dark green web.

So they went on again as the evening was waning, and when
they were gotten within a furlong of the Gate, lo! there was
come the minstrelsy, the pipe and the tabor, the fiddle and
210

the harp, and the folk that had learned to sing the sweetest, The Song of
both men and women, and Redesman at the head of them all. Spring-tide

Then fell the throng into an ordered company; first went
the music, and then a score of Face-of-god's warriors with
drawn swords and uplifted spears; and then the flower-
bedecked misery of the Runaways, men and women going
together, gaunt, befouled and hollow-eyed, with here and
there a flushed cheek or gleaming eye, or tear-bedewed face,
as thejoyandtriumphof the eve pierced through their wonted
weariness of grief; then the rest of the warriors, and lastly the
mingled crowd of Dalesfolk, tall men and fair women gaily
arrayed, clean-faced, clear-skinned, and sleek-haired, with
glancing eyes and ruddy lips.

And now Redesman turned about to the music and drew
his bow across his fiddle, and the other bows ran out in con-
cert, and the harps followed the story of them, and he lifted
up his voice and sang the words of an old song, and all the
singers joined him and blended their voices with his. And
these are some of the words which they sang:

Lo! here is Spring, and all we are living,

We that were wan with Winter's fear;
Reach out your hands to her hands that are giving,

Lest ye lose her love and the light of the year.

Many a morn did we wake to sorrow,

When low on the land the cloud-wrath lay;
Many an eve we feared to-morrow,

The unbegun unfinished day.

Ah we — we hoped not, and thou wert tardy;

Nought wert thou helping; nought we prayed.
Where was the eager heart, the hardy?

Where was the sweet- voiced unafraid?

But now thou lovest, now thou leadest,

Where is gone the grief of our minds?
What was the word of the tale, that thou heedest

E'en as the breath of the bygone winds?

P2 211

The Bride Green and green is thy garment growing

behoidetli Over thy blossoming limbs beneath ;

eRuiu- Up Q » er OUf £ eet r j se t j lc y^gg Q f t hy sowing,

^ Pierced are our hearts with thine odorous breath.

But where art thou wending, thou new-comer?

Hurrying on to the Courts of the Sun?
Where art thou now in the House of the Summer?

Told are thy days and thy deed is done.

Spring has been here for us that are living

After the days of Winter's fear;
Here in our hands is the wealth of her giving,

The Love of the Earth, and the Light of the Year.

Thus came they to the Gate, and lo! the Bride thereby,
leaning against a buttress, gazing with no dull eyes at the
coming throng. She was now clad in her woman 's attire again,
to wit a light flame-coloured gown over a green kirtle; but
she yet bore a gilded helm on her head and a sword girt to
her side in token of her oath to the God. She had been in
Hall-face's company in that last battle, and had done a man's
service there, fighting very valiantly, but had not been hurt,
and had come back to Burgstead when the shift of men was.

Now she drew herself up and stood a little way before the
Gate and looked forth on the throng, and when her eyes be-
held theRunawaysamidstoftheweaponedcarlesofBurgdale,
her face flushed, and her eyes filled with tears as she stood,
partly wondering, partly deeming what they were. She waited
till Stone-face came by her, and then she took the old man by
the sleeve, and drew him apart a little and said to him : <c What
meaneth this show, my friend? Who hath clad these folk
thus strangely; and who be these three naked tall ones, so
fierce-looking, but somewhat noble of aspeft?"

For indeed those three menofthe kindreds, when they had
gotten into the Dale, and had rested them, and drunk a cup
of wine, and when they had seen the chaplets and wreaths of

212

the spring-flowers wherewith they were bedecked, and had Stone-fcce
smelt the sweet savour of them, fell to walking proudly, heed- telle* *c
ing not their nakedness; for no rag had they upon them save J* ride of ^ c
breech-clouts of deer-skin : they had changed weapons with unawa y*
the Burgdale carles; and one had gotten a great axe, which he
bore over his shoulder, and the shaft thereof was all done
about with copper; and another had shouldered a long heavy
thrusting-spear,and the third, an exceeding tall man, bore a
long broad-bladed war-sword. Thus they wen t, brown of skin
beneath their flower-garlands, their long hair bleached by the
sun falling about their shoulders; high they strode amongst
the shuffling carles and tripping women of the later-come
thralls. But when they heard the music, and saw that they
were coming to the Gate in triumph, strange thoughts of old
memories swelled up in their hearts, and they refrained them
not from weeping, for they felt that the joy of life had come
back to them.

Nor must it be deemed that these were the only ones
amongst the Runaways whose hearts were cheered and soft-
ened: already were many of them coming back to life, as they
felt their worn bodies caressed by the clear soft air of Burg-
dale, and the sweetness of the flowers that hung about them,
and saw all round about the kind and happy faces of their
well-willers.

So Stone-face looked on the Bride as she stood with face
yet tear-bedewed, awaiting his answer, and said:

" Daughter, thou sayest who clad these folk thus? It was
misery that hath so dight them ; and they are the images of
what we shall be if we love foul life better than fair death, and
so fall into the hands of the Felons, who were the masters of
these men. As for the tall naked men, they are of our own
blood, and kinsmen to Face-of-god's new friends; and they
are of the best of the vanquished : it was in early days that
they fled from thralldom; as we may have to do. Now,
daughter, I bid thee beasjoyousas thou art valiant, and then
shall all be well"

Therewith she smiled on him, and he departed, and she

213

They come stood alittlewhile, as the throng moved on and was swallowed
into Burg- by the Gate, and looked after them ; and for all her pity for
stead t £ e th e j- fo\k y she thought chiefly of those fearless tell men

who were of the blood of those with whom it was lawful to
wed.

There she stood as the wind dried the tears upon her
cheeks, thinking of the sorrow which thesefolk had endured,
and their stripes and mocking, their squalor and famine; and
she wondered and looked on her own fair and shapely hands
with the precious finger-rings thereon, and on the dainty
cloth and trim broidery of her sleeve; and she touched her
smooth cheek with the back of her hand, and smiled, and felt
the spring sweet in her mouth, and its savour goodly in her
nostrils ; and therewith she called to mind the aspect of her
lovely body, as whiles she had seen it imaged, all its full
measure, in the clear pool at midsummer, or piece-meal, in
the shining steel of the Westland mirror. She thought also
with what joy she drew the breath of life, yea, even amidst of
grief, and of how sweet and pure and well-nurtured she was,
and how well beloved of many friends and the whole folk,
and she set all this beside those woeful bodies and lowering
faces, and felt shame of her sorrow of heart, and the pain it
had brought to her; and ever amidst shame and pity of all
that misery rose up before her the images of those tall fierce
men, and it seemed to her as if she had seen something like to
them in some dream or imagination of her mind.

So came the Burgdalers and their guests into the street of
Burgstead amidst music and singing; and the throng was
great there. Then Face-of-god bade make a ring about the
strangers, and they did so, and he and the Runaways alone
were in the midst of it ; and he spake in a loud voice and said :
" Men of the Dale and the Burg, these folk whom here ye
see in such a sorry plight are they whom our deadly foes have
rejoiced to torment; let us therefore rejoice to cherish them.
Now let those men come forth who deem that they have
enough and more, so that they may each take into their houses
some two or three of these friends such as would be fain to
214

be together. And since I am War-leader, and have the right The Burg-
hereto, I will first choose them whom I will lead into the dalerstakc in
House of the Face. And lo you! will I have this man (and he tho8C * ucsts
laid his hand on Dallach),whoishewhom 1 first came across,
and who found us all these others, and next 1 will have yonder
tallcarles, the threeof them,because I perceive them to be men
meet to be with a War-leader, and to follow him in battle."

Therewith he drew the three Men of the Wolf towards
him, but Dallach already was standing beside him. And folk
rejoiced in Face-of-god.

But the Bride came forward next, and spake to him meekly
and simply:

"War-leader, let me have of the women those who need
me most, that I may bring them to the House of the Steer,
and try if there be not some good days yet to be found for
them, wherein they shall but remember the past grief as an
ugly dream."

Then Face-of-god looked on her, and him-seemed he had
never seen her so fair; and all the shame wherewith he had
beheld her of late was gone from him, and his heart ran over
with friendly love towards her as she looked into his face with
kindly eyes; and he said:

"Kinswoman, take thy choice as thy kindness biddeth,
and happy shall they be whom thou choosest."

She bowed her head soberly, and chose from among the
guests four women of the saddest and most grievous, and
no man of their kindred spake for going along with them;
then she went her ways home, leading one of them by the
hand, and strange was it to see those twain going through sun
and shade together, that poor wretch along with the goodliest
of women.

Then came forward one after other of the worthy goodmen
of the Dale, andespecially such as were old,and theyledaway
one one man, and another two, and another three, and often
would a man crave to go with a woman or a woman with a
man, and it was not gainsaid them. So were all the guests ap-
portioned, and ill-content were those goodmen that had to

215

How the depart without a guest ; and one man would say to another :

Runaways « Such-an-one, be not downcast ; this guest shall be between

***** us, if he will, and shall dwell with thee and me month about ;

but this first month with me, since I was first comer." And

so forth was it said.

Now to prevent the time to come, it may be said about the
Runaways, that when they had been a little while amongst
the Burgdalers, well fed and well clad and kindly cherished,
it was marvellous how they were bettered in aspect of body,
and it began to be seen of them that they were well-favoured
people, and divers of the women exceeding goodly, black-
haired and grey-eyed, and very clear-skinned and white-
skinned ; most of them were young, and the oldest had not
seen above forty winters. They of Rosedale, and especially
such as had first fled away to the wood, were very soon seen
to be merry and kindly folk; but they who had been longest
in captivity, and notably those from Silverdale who were not
of the kindreds, were for a long time sullen and heavy, and it
availed little to trust to them for the doing of work; albeit
they would follow about their friends of Burgdale with the
love of a dog; also they were, divers of them, somewhat
thievish, and if they lacked anything would liefer take it by
stealth than ask for it ; which forsooth the Burgdale men took
not amiss, but deemed of it as a jest rather.

Very few of the Runaways had any will to fare back to their
old homes, or indeed could be got to go into the wood, or,
after a day or two, to say any word of Rosedale or Silverdale.
In this and other matters the Burgdalers dealt with them as
with children who must have their way ; for they deemed that
their guests had much time to make up; also they were well
content when they saw how goodly they were, for these
Dalesmen loved to see men goodly of body and of a cheerful
countenance.

As for Dallach and the three Silverdale men of the kindred,
they wentgladly whereas the Burgdale men would havethem ;
and half a score others took weapons in their hands when the
war was foughten : concerning which more hereafter.
216

But on the even whereof the tale now tells, Face-of-god Face-of-god
and Stone-face and their company met after nightfall in the lcadeth those
Hall of the Face clad in glorious raiment, and therewith were t !* rc ^"} 1 to
Dallach and the men of Silverdale, washen and docked of
their longhair,afterthe fashionof warriorswho bear the helm ;
and they were clad in gay attire, with battle-swords girt to
their sides and gold rings on their arms. Somewhat stern and
sad-eyed were those Silverdalers yet, though they looked on
those about them kindly and courteously when they met their
eyes; and Face-of-god yearned towards them when he called
to mind the beauty and wisdom and loving-kindness of the
Sun-beam. They were, as aforesaid, strong men and tall, and
one of them taller than any amidst that house of tall men.
Their names were Wolf-stone, the tallest, and God-swain,
and Spear-fist; and God-swain the youngest was of thirty
winters, and Wolf-stoneof forty. They came into the Hall in
such wise, that when they were washed and attired, and all
men were assembled in the Hall, and the Alderman and the
chieftains sitting on the dais, Face-of-god brought them in
from the out-bower, holding Dallach by the right hand and
Wolf-stone by the left; and he looked but a stripling beside
that huge man.

And when the men in the Hall beheld such goodly war-
riors, and remembered their grief late past, they all stood up
and shouted for joy of them, but Face-of-god passed up the
Hall with them, and stood before the dais and said:

"O Alderman of the Dale and Chief of the House of the
Face, here I bring to you the foes of our foemen, whom I have
met in the Wild-wood, and bidden to our House; and me-
seemeth they will be our friends, and stand beside us in the
day of battle. Therefore I say, take these guests and me to-
gether, or put us all to the door together ; and if thou wilt take
them, then show them to such places as thou deemest meet/ 9

Then stood up the Alderman and said :

"Men of Silverdale and Rosedale, I bid you welcome!
Be ye our friends, and abide here with us as long as seemeth
good to you, and share in all that is ours. Son Face-of-god,

217

The Alder-
man giveth
Face-of-god
good words

show these warriors to seats on the dais beside thee, and
cherish them as well as thou knowest how."

Then Face-of-god brought them up on to the dais and sat
down on the right hand of his father, with Dallach on his right
hand, and thenW olf-stone out from him ; then sat Stone-face,
that there might be a man of the Dale to talk with them and
serve them; and on his right hand first Spear-fist and then
God-swain. And when they were all sat down, and the meat
was on the board, Iron-face turned to his son Face-of-god and
took his hand, and said in a loud voice, so that many might
hear him :

" Son Face-of-god, son Gold-mane, thou bearest with thee
both ill luck and good. Erewhile, when thou wanderedst out
into the Wild- wood, seeking thou knewest not what from out
of the Land of Dreams, thou didst but bring aback to us grief
and shame; but now that thou hast gone forth with the neigh-
bours seeking thy foemen, thou hast come aback to us with
thine hands full of honour and joy for us, and we thank thee
for thy gifts, and I call thee a lucky man. Herewith, kinsman,
I drink to thee and the lasting of thy luck."

Therewith he stood up and drank the health of the War-
leader and the Guests: and all men were exceeding joyous
thereat, when they called to mind his wrath at the Gate-thing,
and they shouted for gladness as they drank that health, and
the feast became exceeding merry in the House of the Face;
and as to the war to come, it seemed to them as if it were over
and done in all triumph.

CHAPTER XXX. HALL-FACE GOETH TOWARD
ROSEDALE.

ON the morrow Face-of-god took counsel with Hall-
face and Stone-face as to what were best to be done,
and they sat on the dais in the Hall to talk it over.
Short was the time that had worn since that day in Shadowy
Vale, for it was but eight days since then ; yet so many things
had befallen in that time, and, to speak shortly, the outlook
218

for the Burgdalers had changed so much, that the time seemed Rede con-
long to all the three, and especially to Face-of-god. ceming

It was yet twenty days till the Great Folk-mote should be nutten
holden,and to Hall-face the time seemed long enough to do
somewhat, and he deemed it were good to gather force and
fall on the Dusky Men in Rosedale, since now they had got-
ten men who could lead them the nighest way and by the
safest passes, and who knew all the ways of the foemen. But
to Stone-face this rede seemed not so good; for they would
have to go and come back, and fight and conquer, in less time
than twenty days, or be belated of the Folk-mote, and mean-
while much might happen.

"For," said Stone-face, " we may deem the fighting-men
of Rosedale to be little less than one thousand, and however
we fall on them, even if it be unawares at first, they shall fight
stubbornly; so that we may not send against them many less
than they be, and that shall strip Burgdale of its fighting-
men, so that whatever befalls, we that be left shall have to
bide at home."

Now was Face-of-god of the same mind as Stone-face; and
he said moreover: "When we go to Rosedale we must abide
there a while unless we be overthrown. For if ye conquer it
and come away at once, presently shall the tidings come to the
ears of the Dusky Men in Silverdale,and they shall join them-
selves to those of Rosedale who have fled before you, and
between them they shall destroy the unhappy people therein ;
for ye cannot take them all away with you : and that shall they
do all the more now, when they look to have new thralls in
Burgdale, both men and women. And this we may not suffer,
but must abide till we have met all our foemen and have over-
come them, so that the poor folk there shall be safe from them
till they have learned how to defend their dale. Now my rede
is, that we send out the War-arrow at once up and down the
Dale, and to the Shepherds and Woodlanders,and appoint a
day for the Muster and Weapon-show of all our Folk, and
that day to be the day before the Spring Market, that is to say,
four days before the Great Folk-mote, and meantime that we

219

Hall-face to keep sure watch about the border of the wood, and now and
seek toward again scour the wood, so as to clear the Dale of their wander-
Roscdalc ing bands."

"Yea," said Hall-face; "and I pray thee, brother, let me
have an hundred of men and thy Dallach, and let us go some-
what deep into the wood towards Rosedale, and see what we
may come across ;perad venture itmight be something better
than hart or wild-swine."

Said Face-of-god : " I see no harm therein, if Dallach goeth
with thee freely; for I will have no force put on him or any
other of the Runaways. Yet meseemeth it were not ill for thee
to find the road to Rosedale; for I have it in my mind to
send a company thither to give those Rosedale man-quell ers
somewhat to do at home when we fall upon Silverdale.There-
fore go find Dallach, and get thy men together at once; for
the sooner thou art gone on thy way the better. But this I bid
thee, go no further than three days out, that ye may be back
home betimes."

At this word Hall-face's eyes gleamed with joy, and he
went out from the Hall straightway and sought Dallach, and
found him at the Gate. Iron-race had given him a new sword,
a good one, and had bidden him call it Thicket-clearer, and
he would not leave it any moment of the day or night, but
would lay it under his pillow at night as a child does with a
new toy ; and now he was leaning against a buttress and draw-
ing the said sword half out of the scabbard and poring over
its blade, which was indeed fair enough, being wrought with
dark grey waving lines like the eddiesof theWeltering Water.

So Hall-face greeted him, and smiled and said :

" Guest, if thou wilt, thou mayst take that new blade of my
father's work which thou lovest so, ajourney which shall re-
joice it.

"Yea," said Dallach, " I suppose that thou wouldest fere
on thy brother's footsteps, and deemestthat I am the man to
lead thee on the road, and even farther than he went; and
though it might be thought by some that I have seen enough
of Rosedale and the parts thereabout for one while, yet will
I go with thee; for now am I a man again, body and soul."
220

And therewith he drew Thicket-clearer right out of his Hall-fcce
sheath and waved him in the air. And Hall-fece was glad of comes back
him and said he was well apaidof his help. So they went away
together to gather men, and on the morrow Hall-face de-
parted and went into the Wild-wood with Dallach and an
hundred and two score men.

But as for Face-of-God, he fared up and down the Dale
following the War-arro w,and went into all houses, and talked
with the folk, both young and old, men and women, and told
them closely all that had betid and all that was like to betide;
and he was well pleased with that which he saw and heard;
for all took his words well, and were nought afeard or dis-
mayed by the tidings; and he saw that they would not hang
aback. Meantime the days wore, and Hall-face came not back
till the seventh day, and he brought with him twelve more
Runaways, of whom five were women. But he had lost four
men, and had with him Dallach and five others of the Dales-
men borne upon litters sore hurt; and this was his story:

They got to the Burg of the Runaways on the forenoon of
the third day, and thereby came on five carles of the Runa-
ways — men who had missed meeting Dallach that other day,
but knew what had been done; for one of them had been sick
and could not come with him, and he had told the others: so
now they were hanging about the Burg of the Runaways
hoping somewhat that he might come again; and they met
theBurgdalers full of joy, and brought them trouts that they
had caught in the river.

As for the other Runaways, namely, five women and two
more carles — they had gotten them close to the entrance into
Silverdale,* where by night and cloud they came on a camp-
mentof the Dusky Men, who wereleading home these seven
poor wretches, runaways whom they had caught, that they
might slay them most evilly in Rose-stead. So Hall-face fell
on the Dusky Men, and delivered their captives, but slew
not all the foe, and they that fled brought pursuers on them
who came up with them the next day, so near was Rosedale,
though they made all diligence homeward. The Burgdalers
* The distance seems to show that Rosedale is meant.

221

Men thin must needs turn and fight with those pursuers, and at last
and hurt they drave them aback so that they might go on their ways
home. They let not the grass grow beneath their feet there-
after, till they were assured by meeting a band of the Wood-
landers, who had gone forth to help them,and with whom they
rested a little. But neither so were they quite done with the
foemen, who came upon them next day a very many : these
however they and the Woodlanders, who were all fresh and
un wounded andvery valiant, speedily put to the worse ;and so
they came on to Burgstead, leaving those of them who were
sorest hurt to be tended by the Woodlanders at Carlstead,
who, as might be looked for, dealt with them very lovingly.
It was in the first fight that they suffered that loss of slain
and wounded ; and therein the newly delivered thralls fought
valiantly against their masters : as for Dallach, it was no mar-
vel, said Hall-face, that he was hurt ; but rather a marvel that
he was not slain, so little he recked of point and edge, if he
might but slay the foemen.

Such was Hall-face's tale; and Face-of-god deemed that
he had done unwisely to let him go that journey ; for the slay-
ing of a few Dusky Men was but a light gain to set against
the loss of so many Burgdalers ; yet was he glad of the deliver-
ance of those Runaways, and deemed it a gain indeed. But
henceforth would he hold all still till he should have tidings
of Folk-might ;so noughtwas done thereafter save the ward-
ing of the Dale, from the country of the Shepherds to the
Waste above the Eastern passes.

But Face-of-god himself went up amongst the Shepherds,
and abode with a goodman hight Hound-under-Greenbury,
who gathered to him the folk from the country-side, and they
went up on to Greenbury,and sat on the green grass while he
spoke with them and told them, as he had told the others,
what had been done and what should be done. And they heard
him gladly, and he deemed that there would be no blench-
ing in them, for they were all in one tale to live and die with
their friends of Burgdale,and they said that they would have
no other word save that to bear to the Great Folk-mote.
222

So he went away well-pleased, and he fared on thence to Face-of-god
the Woodlanders, and guested at the house of a valiant man speaketh
hight Wargrove, who on the morrow morn called the folk ™*M^ C d
together to a green lawn of the Wild-wood, so that there was
scarce a soul of them that was not there. Then he laid the
whole matter before them ; and if the Dalesmen had been
meny and ready, and the Shepherds stout-hearted and friend-
ly, yet were the Woodlanders more eager still, so that every
hour seemed long to them till they stood in their war-gear;
and they told him that now at last was the hour drawing nigh
which they had dreamed of, but had scarce dared to hope
for, when the lost way should be found, and the crooked
made straight, and that which had been broken should be
mended; that their meat and drink, and sleeping and wak-
ing, and all that they did were now become to them but the
means of living till the day was come whereon the two rem-
nants of the children of the Wolf should meet and become
one Folk to live or die together.

Then went Face-of-god back to Burgstead again, and as
he stood anigh the Thing-stead once more, and looked down
on the Dale as he had beheld it last autumn, he bethought
him that with all that had been done and all that had been
promised, the earth was clearing of her trouble, and that now
there was nought betwixt him and the happy days of life
which the Dale should give to the dwellers therein, save the
gathering hosts of the battle-field and the day when the last
word should be spoken and the first stroke smitten. So he
went down on to the Portway well content.

Thereafter till the day of the Weapon-show there is
nought to tell of, save that Dallach and the other wounded
men began to grow whole again ; and all men sat at home, or
went on the woodland ward, expecting great tidings after the
holding of the Folk-mote.

223

CHAPTER XXXI. OF THE WEAPON-SHOW OF
THE MEN OF BURGDALE & THEIR NEIGH-
BOURS.

Men gather TW T O W on the day appointed for the Weapon-show
in the I ^l I came the Folk flock-meal to the great and wide mea-

meadow ± y dow that was dt f t bjr Wildlake as it ran tojoin the

Weltering Water. Early in the morning, even before sun-
rise, had the wains full or women and children begun to come
thither. Also there came little horses and asses from the
Shepherd country with one or two or three damsels or
children sitting on each, and by wain-side or by beast strode
the men of the house, merry and fair in their war-gear. The
Woodlanders, moreover, man and woman, elder and swain
and young damsel, streamed out of the wood from Carlstead,
eager to make the day begin before the sunrise, and end be-
fore his setting.

Then all men fell to pitching of tents and tilting over of
wains; for the April sun was hot in the Dale, and when he
arose the meads were gay with more than the spring flowers;
for the tents and the tilts were stained and broidered with
many colours, and there was none who had not furbished up
his war-gear so that all shone and glittered. And many wore
gay surcoats over their armour, and the women were clad in
all their bravery, and the Houses mostly of a suit; for one
bore blue and another corn-colour, and another green, and
another brazil, and so forth, and all gleaming and glowing
with broidery of gold and bright hues. But the women of the
Shepherds were all clad in white, embroidered with green
boughs and red blossoms, and the Woodland women wore
dark red kirtles. Moreover, the women had set garlands of
flowers on their heads and the helms of the men, and for the
most part they were slim of body and tall and light-limbed,
and as dainty to look upon as the willow-boughs that waved
on the brook-side.

Thither had the goodmen who were guesting the Runa-
ways brought their guests, even now much bettered by their
new soft days; and much the poor folk marvelled at all this
224

joyance, and they scarce knew where they were ; but to some Men come
it brought back to their minds days of joyance before the out from
thralldom and all that they had lost, so that their hearts were Bur g 8tcad
heavy a while, till they saw the warriors of the kindreds
streaming into the mead and bethought them why they
carried steel.

Now by then the sun was fully up there was a great throng
on the Portway, and this was the folk of the Burg on their
way to the Weapon-mead. The men-at-arms were in the
midst of the throng, and at the head of them was the War-
leader, with the banner of the Face before him, wherein was
done the image of the God with the ray-ringed head. But at
the rearwardofthewarriorswent the Alderman and theBurg-
wardens, before whom was borne the banner of the Burg
pictured with the Gate and its Towers; but in the midst be-
twixt those two was the banner of the Steer, a white beast on
a green field.

So when the Dale-wardens who were down in the meadow
heard the music and beheld who were coming, they bade the
companies of the Dale and the Shepherds and the Wood-
landers who were down there to pitch their banners in a half
circle about the ingle of the meadow which was made by the
streams of Wildlake and the Weltering Water, and gather
to them to be ordered there under their leaders of scores and
half-hundreds and hundreds; and even so they did. But the
banners of the Dale without the Burg were the Bridge, and
the Bull, and the Vine, and the Sickle. And the Shepherds
had three banners, to wit Greenbury, and the Fleece, and the
Thorn.

As for the Woodlanders, they said that they were abiding
their great banner, but it should come in good time; "and
meantime," said they, " here are the war-tokens that we shall
fight under; for they are good enough banners for us poor
men, the remnant of the valiant of time past." Therewith
they showed two great spears, and athwart the one was tied
an arrow, its point dipped in blood, its feathers singed with
fire; and they said, " This is the banner of the War-shaft."

On the other spear there was nought ; but the head thereof
xv.q 225

The War- was great and long, and they had so burnished the steel that
leader taketh th c sun smo te out a ray of light from it, so that it might be
his seat secn f rom a f ar ^nd fay g^. cc^his is the Banner of the

Spear! Down yonder where the ravens are gathering ye shall
see a banner flying over us. There shall fall many a mother's

son."

Smiled the Dale-wardens, and said that these were good
banners to fight under; and those that stood nearby shouted
for the valiancy of the Woodland Carles.

Now the Dale-wardens wen t to theentrance from the Port-
way to the meadow, and there met the Men of the Burg, and
two of them went one on either side of the War-leader to
show him to his seat, and the others abode till the Alderman
and Burg-wardens came up, and then joined themselves to
them, and the horns blew up both in the meadow and on the
road, and the new-comers went their ways to their appointed
places amidst the shouts of the Dalesmen; and the women
and children and old men from the Burg followed after, till
all the mead was covered with bright raiment and glittering
gear, save within the ring of men at the further end.

So came the War-leader to his seat of green turf raised in
the ingle aforesaid; and he stood beside it till the Alderman
and Wardens had taken their places on a seat behind him
raised higher than his; below him on the step of his seat sat
the Scrivener with his pen and ink-horn and scroll of parch-
ment, and men had brought him a smooth shield whereon
to write.

On the left side of Face-of-god stood the men of the Face
all glittering in their arms, and amongst them were Wolf-
stone and his two fellows, but Dallach was not yet whole of
his hurts. On his right were the folk of the House of the
Steer: the leader of that House was an old white-bearded
man, grandfather of the Bride, for her father was dead; and
who but the Bride herself stood beside him in her glorious
war-gear, looking as if she were new come from the City of
the Gods, thought most men; but those who beheld her
closely deemed that she looked heavy-eyed and haggard, as
22$

if she were aweary. Nevertheless, wheresoever she passed, The War-
and whosoever looked on her (and all men looked on her), leader
there arose a murmur of praise and love ; and the women, and 'P 6 *^** 1
especially the young ones, said how fair her deed was, and
how meet she was for it; and some of them were for doing on
war-gear and faring to batde with the carles; and of these
some were sober and solemn, as was well seen afterwards, and
some spake lightly: some also fell to boasting of how they
could run and climb and swim and shoot in the bow, and fell
to baring of their arms to show how strong they were: and
indeed they were no weaklings, though their arms were fair.

There then stood theringof men, each company under its
banner; and beyond them stood the women and children and
men unmeet for battle; and beyond them again the tilted
wains and the tents.

Now Face-of-god sat him down on the turf-seat with his
bright helm on his head and his naked sword across his knees,
while the horns blew up loudly, and when they had done, the
elder of the Dale-wardens cried out for silence. Then again
arose Face-of-god and said :

" Men of the Dale, and ye friends of the Shepherds, and
ye, O valiant Woodlanders; we are not assembled here to
take counsel, for in three days' time shall the Great Folk-
mote be holden, whereat shall be counsel enough. But since
I have been appointed your Chief and War-leader, till such
timeas the Folk-mote shall eitheryeasay or naysay myleader-
ship, 1 have sent for you that we may look each other in the
face and number our host and behold our weapons, and see
if we be meet for battle and for the dealing with a great host
of foemen. For now no longer can it be said that we are going
to war, but rather that war is on our borders, and we are
blended with it; as many have learned to their cost; for some
have been slain and some sorely hurt. Therefore I bid you
now, all ye that are weaponed, wend past us that the tale of
you may be taken. But first let every hundred-leader and
half-hundred-leader and score-leader make sure that he hath
his tale aright, and give his word to the captain of his banner

Q2 227

The Steer, that he in turn may give it out to the Scrivener with his name
the Bridge, and the House and Company that he leadeth."

*h C xr^' and ^° ^ e s P a ' ce anc * sat ^ m a ^own ; and the horns blew again

in token that the companies should go past ; and the first that
came was Hall- ward of the House of the Steer, and the first
of those that went after him was the Bride, going as if she
were his son.

So he cried out his name, and the name of his House, and
said, "An hundred and a half," and passed forth, his men
following him in most goodly array. Each man was girt with
a good sword and bore a long heavy spear over his shoulder,
save a score who bare bows; and no man lacked a helm, a
shield, and a coat offence.

Then came a goodly man of thirty winters, and stayed be-
fore the Scrivener and cried out:

"Writedown the House of the Bridge of the Upper Dale
at one hundred, and War-well their leader."

And he strode on, and his men followed clad and weapon ed
like those of the Steer, save that some had axes hanging to
their girdles instead of swords; and most bore casting-spears
instead of the long spears, and half a score were bowmen.

Then came Fox of Upton leading the men of the Bull of
M id-dale, an hundred and a half lacking two ; very great and
tall were his men, and they also bore long spears, and one
score and two were bowmen.

Then Fork-beard of Lea, a man well on in years, led on the
men of the Vine, an hundred and a half and five men thereto;
two score of them bare bow in hand and were girt with sword ;
the rest bore their swords naked in their right hands, and
their shields (which were but small bucklers) hanging at their
backs,and in the left hand each bore two casting-spears. With
thesewenttwodoughtywomen-at-armsamongthebowmen,
tall and well-knit, already growing brown with the spring
sun, for their work lay among the stocks of the vines on the
southward-looking bents.

Next came a tall young man, yellow-haired, with a thin
red beard, and gave himself out for Red-beard of the Knolls ;
228

he bore his father's name, as the custom of their house was, The Sickle,
but the old man, who had long been head man of the House of the Face, and
the Sickle, was late dead in his bed, and the young man had Greenbury
not seen twenty winters. He bade the Scrivener write the tale g0 ^
of the Men of the Sickle at an hundred and a half, and his folk
fared past the War-leader joyously, being one half of them
bowmen ; and fell shooters they were ; the other half were girt
with swords, and bore withal long ashen staves armed with
great blades curved inwards, which weapon they called heft-
sax.

All these bands, as the name and the tale of them was de-
clared were greeted with loud shouts from their fellows and
the bystanders; but now arose a greater shout still, as Stone-
face, clad in goodly glittering array, came forth and said:

"I am Stone-face of the House of the Face, and I bring
with me two hundreds of men with their best war-gear and
weapons: write it down, Scrivener! "

And he strode on like a young man after those who had
gone past, and after him came the tall Hall-face and his men,
a gallant sight to see: two score bowmen girt with swords,
and the others with naked swords waving aloft, and each
bearing two casting-spears in his left hand.

Then camea man of middle age, broad-shouldered, yellow-
haired, blue-eyed, of wide and ruddy countenance, and after
him a goodly company; and again great was the shout that
went up to the heavens; for he said :

"Scrivener, write down that Hound-under-Greenbury,
from amongst the dwellers in the hills where the sheep feed,
leadeth the men who go under the banner of Greenbury, to
the tale of an hundred and four score."

Therewith hepassed on, and his men followed, stout,stark,
and merry-feced, girt with swords, and bearing over their
shoulders long-staved axes, and spears not so long as those
which the Dalesmen bore; and they had but a half score of
arrow-shot with them.

Next came a young man, blue-eyed also, with hair the
colour of flax on the distaff, broad-faced and short-nosed, low

229

Now go by of stature, but very strong-built, who cried out in a loud,
the Fleece, cheerful voice :

the Thorn, cc j am Strongitharm of the Shepherds, and these valiant
shaft and men are °^ ^e Fleece and the Thorn blended together, for
the Spear. so they would have it ; and their tale is one hundred and two

score and ten."

Then the men of those kindreds went past merry and
shouting, and they were clad and weaponed like to them of
Greenbury, but had with them a score of bowmen. And all
these Shepherd-folk wore over their hauberks white woollen
surcoats broidered with green and red.

Now again uprose the cry, and there stood before the War-
leader a very tall man of fifty winters, dark-faced and grey-
eyed, and he spake slowly and somewhat softly, and said:

"War-leader, this is Red-wolf of the Woodlanders leading
the men who go under thesign of the War-shaft, to thenum-
ber of an hundred and two."

Then he passed on, and his men after him, tall, lean, and
silent amidst the shouting. All these men bare bows, for they
were keen hunters; each had at his girdle a little axe and a
wood-knife, and some had long swords withal. They wore,
everyone of the carles, short green surcoats over their coats
offence ; but amongst them were three women who bore like
weapons to the men, but were clad in red kirtles under their
hauberks, which were of good ring-mail gleaming over them
from throat to knee.

Last came another tall man, but young, of twenty-five
winters, and spake:

" Scrivener, I am Bears-bane of the Woodlanders, and
these that come after me wend under the sign of the Spear,
and they are of the tale of one hundred and seven."

And he passed by at once, and his men followed him, clad
and weaponed no otherwise than they of the War-shaft, and
with them were two women.

Now went all those companies back to their banners, and
stood there; and there arose among the bystanders much
talk concerning the Weapon-show, and who were the best
230

arrayed of the Houses. And of the old men, some spake of The tale of
past weapon-shows which they had seen in their youth, and theFighting-
they set them beside this one, and praised and blamed. So it mcn
went on a little while till the horns blew again, and once more
there was silence. Then arose Face-of-god and said :

" Men of Burgdale, and ye Shepherd-folk, and ye of the
Woodland, now shall ye wot how many weapon ed men we
may bring together for this war. Scrivener, arise and give
forth the tale of the companies, as they have been told unto
you."

Then the Scrivener stood up on the turf-bench beside
Face-of-god, and spake in a loud voice, reading from his
scroll:

"Of the Men of Burgdale there have passed by me nine
hundreds and six ; of the Shepherds three hundreds and eight
and ten; and of the Woodlanders two hundreds and nine; so
that all told our men are fourteen hundreds and thirty and
three."

Now in those days men reckoned by long hundreds, so
that the whole tale of the host was one thousand, five hundred,
and four score and one, telling the tale in short hundreds.

When the tale had been given forth and heard, men shouted
again, and they rejoiced that they were so many. For it ex-
ceeded the reckoning which the Alderman had given out at
the Gate-thing. But Face-of-god said:

" Neighbours, we have held our Weapon-show; but now
hold you ready, each man,forthe Hosting to ward very battle;
for belike within seven days shall the leaders of hundreds and
twenties summon you to be ready in arms to take whatso
fortune may befall. Now is sundered the Weapon-show. Be
ye as merry to-day as your hearts bid you to be."

Therewith he came down from his seat with the Alderman
and the Wardens, and they mingled with thegood folk of the
Dale and the Shepherds and the Woodlanders, and merry
was their converse there. It yet lacked an hour of noon; so
presently they fell to and feasted in the green meadow, drink-
ing from wain to wain and from tent to tent ; and thereafter

231

show
sundereth

The they played and sported in the meads, shooting at the butts

Weapon- and wrestling, and trying other masteries. Then they fell to

dancing one and all, and so at last to supper on the green
grass in great merriment. Nor might you have known from
the demeanour of any that any threat of evil overhung the
Dale. Nay, so glad were they, and so friendly, that you might
rather have deemed that this was the land whereof tales tell,
wherein people die not, but live for ever, without growing
any older than when they first come thither, unless they be
born into the land itself, and then they grow into fair man-
hood, and so abide. In sooth, both the land and the folk were
fair enough to be that land and the folk thereof.

But a Tittle after sunset they sundered, and some fared
home; but many of them abode in the tents and tilted wains,
because the morrow was the first day of the Spring Market:
and already were some of the Westland chapmen come; yea,
two of them were with the bystanders in the meadow; and
more were looked for ere the night was far spent.

CHAPTER XXXII. THE MEN OF SHADOWY
VALE COME TO THE SPRING MARKET AT
BURGSTEAD.

ON the morrow betimes in the morning the Westland
chapmen, who were now all come, wen tout from the
House of the Face, where they were ever wont to be
lodged, and set up their booths adown the street betwixt gate
and bridge. Gay was the show ; for the booths were tilted over
with painted cloths, and the merchants themselves were clad
in long gowns of fine cloth ; scarlet, and blue, and white, and
green, and black, with broidered welts of gold and silver ; and
their knaves were gaily attired in short coats of divers hues,
with silver rings about their arms, and short swords girt to
their sides. People began to gather about these chapmen at
once when they fell to opening their bales and their packs,
and unloading their wains. There had they iron, both in pigs
and forged scrap and nails ; steel they had, and silver, both in
232

ingots and vessel; pearls from over sea; cinnabar and other TheChap-
colours for staining, such as were not in the mountains : mad- mc ? and
der from the marshes, and purple of the sea, and scarlet grain thcir ^^
from the holm-oaks by its edge, and woad from the deep
clayey fields of the plain; silken thread also from the outer
ocean, and rare webs of silk, and jars of olive oil, and fine
pottery, and scented woods, and sugar of the cane. But gold
they had none with them, for that they took there; and for
weapons, save a few silver-gilt toys, they had no market.

So presently they fell to chaffer ; for the carles broughtthem
little bags of the river- borne gold, so that the weights and
scales were at work; others had with them scrolls and tallies
to tell the number of the beasts which they had to sell, and the
chapmen gave them wares therefor without beholding the
beasts ; for they wotted that the Dalesmen lied not in chaffer.
While theday wasyetyoungwithalcametheDalesmen from
the mid and nether Dale with their wares and set up their
booths; and they had with them flasks and kegs of the wine
which they had to sell; and bales of the good winter-woven
cloth, some grey, some dyed, and pieces of fine linen; and
blades of swords, and knives, and axes of such fashion as the
Westland men used; and golden cups and chains, and fair
rings set with mountain-blue stones, and copper bowls, and
vessels gilt and parcel-gilt, and mountain-blue for staining.
There were men of the Shepherds also with such fleeces as
they could spare from the daily chaffer with the neighbours.
And of the Woodlanders were four carles and a woman with
peltries and dressed deer-skins, and a few pieces of well-car-
ven wood- work for bedsteads and chairs and such like.

Soon was the Burg thronged with folk in all its open places,
and all were eager and merry, and it could not have been told
from their demeanour and countenance that the shadow of a
grievous trouble hung over them. True it was that every man
of the Dale and the neighbours was girt with his sword, or
bore spear or axe or other weapon in his hand, and that most
had their bucklers at their backs and their helms on their
heads; but this was ever their custom at all meetings of men,

233

The market not because they dreaded war or were fain of strife, but in
opcncth token that they were free men, from whom none should

take the weapons without battle.

Such were the folk of the land: as for the chapmen, they
were well-spoken and courteous, and blithe with the folk, as
they well might be, for they had good pennyworths of them ;
yet they dealt with them without using measureless lying, as
behoved folk dealing with simple and proud people; and
many was the tale they told of the tidings of the Cities and
the Plain.

There amongst the throng was the Bride in her maiden's
attire,but girt with the sword,going from booth to booth with
her guests of the Runaways, and doing those poor people
what pleasure she might,and giving them gifts from thegoods
there, such as they set their hearts on. And the more part of
the Runaways were about among the people of the Fair; but
Dallach, being still weak, sat on a bench by the door of the
House of the Face looking on well-pleased at all the stir of
folk.

Hall-face was gone on the woodland ward ; while Face-of-
god went among the folk in his most glorious attire; but he
soon betook him to the place of meeting without the Gate,
where Stone-face and some of the elders were sitting along
with the Alderman, beside whom sat the head man of the
merchants, clad in a gown of fine scarlet embroidered with
the best work of the Dale, with a golden chaplet on his head,
and a good sword, golden-hilted, by his side, all which the
Alderman had given to him that morning. These chiefs were
talking together concerning the tidings of the Plain, and
many a tale the guest told to the Dalesmen, some true, some
false. For there had been battles down there, and the fall of
kings, and destru&ion of people, as oft befalleth in the guile-
ful Cities. He told them also, in answer to their story of the
Dusky Men,of how men evensuch-like,but ridingon horses,
or drawn in wains, an host not to be numbered, had erewhile
overthrown the hosts of the Cities of the Plain, and had
wrought evils scarce to be told of; and how they had piled up

234

the skulls of slaughtered folk into great hills beside the city- The chiefe sit
gates, so that the sun might no longer shine into the streets ; > n the Gate
and how because of the death and the rapine, grass had grown and ****
in the kings' chambers, and the wolves had chased deer in the
Temples of the Gods.

"But," quoth he, "I know you, bold tillers of the soil,
valiant scourers of the Wild- wood, that the worst that can
befall you will be to die under shield, and that ye shall suffer
no torment of the thrall. May the undying Gods bless the
threshold of this Gate, and oft may I come hither to taste of
your kindness! May your race, the uncorrupt, increase and
multiply, till your valiant men and clean maidens make the
bitter sweet and purify the earth ! "

He spake smooth-tongued and smiling,handlingthe while
the folds of his fine scarlet gown, and belike he meant a full
halfof what he said;forhewas a man very eloquent of speech,
and had spoken with kings, uncowed and pleased with his
speaking;and for that cause and his riches had he been made
chief of the chapmen. As he spake the heart of Face-of-god
swelled within him, and his cheek flushed; but Iron-face sat
up straight and proud, andalight smile played abouthis face,
as he said gravely:

"Friendof the Westland,I thank thee for theblessingand
the kind word. Such as we are, we are; nor do I deem that the
very Gods shall change us. And if they will be our friends, it
is well; for we desire nought of them save their friendship;
and if they will be our foes, that also shallwe bear; norwill we
curse them for doing that which their lives bid them to do.
What sayest thou, Face-of-god, my son?"

"Yea, father," saidFace-of-god,"I say that the very Gods,
though they slay me, cannot unmake my life that has been.
If they do deeds, yet shall we also do."

The Outlander smiled as they spake, and bowed his head
to Iron-face and Face-of-god, and wondered at their pride of
heart, marvelling what they would say to the great men of
the Cities if they should meet them.

But as they sat a-talking, there came two men running to

*35

They hear a them from the Portway, their weapons all clattering upon
horn winded them, and they heard withal the sound of a horn winded not

far off very loud and clear; and the Chapman's cheek paled:
for in sooth he doubted that war was at hand, after all he had
heard of the Dalesmen's dealings with the Dusky Men, And
all battle was loathsome to him, nor for all the gain of his
chaffer had he come into the Dale, had he known that war
was looked for.

But the chiefs of the Dalesmen stirred not, nor changed
countenance; and some of the goodmen who were in the
street nigh the Gate came forth to see what was toward; for
they also had heard the voice of the horn.

Then one of those messengers came up breathless, and
stood before the chiefs, and said:

" New tidings, Alderman ; here be weaponed strangers
come into the Dale! "

The Alderman smiled on him and said: "Yea, son, and
are they a great host of men?"

<c Nay," said the man, "not above a score as I deem, and
there is a woman with them."

"Then shall we abide them here," said the Alderman,
"and thou mightest have saved thy breath, and suffered them
to bring tidings of themselves; since they may scarce bring
us war. For no man desireth certain and present death; and
that is all that such a band may win at our hands in battle to-
day ; and all who come in peace are welcome to us. What like
are they to behold?"

Said the man: "They are tall men gloriously attired, so
that they seem like kinsmen of the Gods; and they bear
flowering boughs in their hands."

The Alderman laughed, and said: " If they be Gods they
are welcome indeed ; and they shall grow the wiser for their
coming; for they shall learn how guest-fain the Burgdalemen
may be. But if, as I deem, they be like unto us, and but the
children of the Gods, then are they as welcome, and it may
be more so, and our greeting to them shall be as their greet-
ing to us would be."
236

Even as he spake the horn was winded nearer yet, and Strangers
more loudly, and folk came pouring out of the Gate to learn come to
the tidings. Presently the strangers came from off the Port- thc Gatc
way into the space before the Gate; and their leader was a
tall and goodly man of some thirty winters, in glorious array,
helm on head and sword by side, his surcoat green and flowery
like the spring meads. In his right hand he held a branch of
the blossomed black-thorn (for some was yet in blossom),
and his left had hold of the hand of an exceeding fair woman
who went beside him : behind him was a score of weaponed
men in goodly attire, some bearing bows, some long spears,
but each bearing a flowering bough in hand.

The tall man stopped in the midst of the space, and the
Alderman and they with him stirred not; though, as for
Face-of-god, it was to him as if summer had come suddenly
into the midst of winter, and for the very sweetness of delight
his face grew pale.

Then the new-comer drew nigh to the Alderman and
said:

"Hail to the Gate and the men of the Gate! Hail to the
kindred of the children of the Gods!"

But the Alderman stood up and spake : " And hail to thee,
tall man! Fair greeting to thee and thy company! Wilt thou
name thyself with thine own name, or shall I call thee nought
save Guest? Welcome art thou, by whatsoever name thou
wilt be called. Here mayst thou and thy folk abide as long
as ye will."

Said the new-comer : "Thanks have thou for thy greeting
and for thy bidding! And that bidding shall we take, what-
soever may come of it; for we are minded to abide with thee
for a while. But know thou, O Alderman of the Dalesmen,
that I am not sackless toward thee and thine. My name is
Folk-might of the Children of the Wolf, and this woman is
the Sun-beam, my sister, and these behind me are of my kin-
dred, and are well beloved and trusty. We are no evil men or
wrong-doers; yet have we been driven into sore straits,
wherein men must needs at whiles do deeds that make their

237

Folk-might friends few and their foes many. So it may be that I am thy

would give foeman. Yet, if thou doubtest of me that I shall be a baneful

up his sword g Ue st, thou shalt have our weapons of us, and then mayest

thou do thy will upon us without dread; and here first of

all is my sword!"

Therewith he cast down the flowering branch he was bear-
ing, and pulled his sword from out his sheath, and took it
by the point, and held out the hilt to Iron-face.

But the Alderman smiled kindly on him and said:

" The blade is a good one, and I say it who know the craft
of sword-forging; but I need it not, for thou seest I have a
sword by my side. Keep your weapons, one and all; for ye
have come amongst many and those no weaklings : and if so
be that thy guilt against us is so great that we must needs
fall on you, ye will need all your war-gear. But hereof is no
need to speak till the time of the Folk-mote, which will be
holden in three days' wearing; so let us forbear this matter
till then; for I deem we shall have enough to say of other
matters. Now, Folk-might, sit down beside me, and thou
also, Sun-beam, fairest of women."

Therewith he looked into her face and reddened, and said :

" Yet belike thou hast a word of greeting for my son, Face-
of-god, unless it be so that ye have not seen him before?"

Then Face-of-god came forward, and took Folk-might by
the hand and kissed him; and he stood before the Sun-beam
and took her hand, and the world waxed a wonder to him as
he kissed her cheeks; and in no wise did she change coun-
tenance, save that her eyes softened, and she gazed at him
full kindly from the happiness of her soul.

Then Face-of-god said : " Welcome, Guests, who erewhile
guested me so well: now beginneth the day of your well-
doing to the men of Burgdale; therefore will we do to you
as well as we may."

Then Folk-might and the Sun-beam sat them down with
the chieftains, one on either side of the Alderman, but Face-
of-god passed forth to the others, and greeted them one by
one: of them was Wood-father and his three sons, and Bow-
238

may; and they rejoiced exceedingly to see him, and Bow- Bow-may
may said : spcakcth

" Now it gladdens my heart to look upon thee alive and
thriving, and to remember that day last winter when I met
thee on the snow, and turned thee back from the perilous
path to thy pleasure, which the Dusky Men were besetting,
of whom thou knewest nought. Yea, it was merry that tide;
but this is better. Nay, friend," she said, "it availeth thee
nought to strive to look out of the back of thine head: let it
be enough to thee that she is there. Thou art now become a
great chieftain, and she is no less; and this is a meeting of
chieftains, and the folk are looking on and expecting de-
meanour of them as of the Gods; and she is not to be dealt
with as if she were the daughter of some little goodman with
whom one hath made tryst in the meadows. There! hearken
to me for a while; at least till I tell thee that thou seemest to
me to hold thine head higher than when last I saw thee;
though that is no long time either. Hast thou been in battle
again since that day?"

" Nay," he said, " I have stricken no stroke since I slew two
felons within the same hour that we parted. And thou, sister,
what hast thou done?"

She said: "The grey goose hath been on the wing thrice
since that, bearing on it the bane of evil things."

Then said Wood-wise: "Kinswoman, tell him of that
battle, since thou art deft with thy tongue."

She said : " Weary on battles litis nought save this : twelve
daysagone needs must every fighting-man of the Wolf, carle
orqueen,wendawayfrom Shadowy Vale, whilethose unmeet
for battle we hid away in the caves at the nether end of the
Dale: but Sun-beam would not endure that night, and fared
with us, though she handled no weapon. All this we had to
do because we had learned that a great company of the Dusky
Men were over-nigh to our Dale, and needs must we fell up-
on them, lest they should learn too much, and spread the
story. Well, so wise was Folk-might that we came on them
unawares by night and cloud at the edge of the Pine-wood,

^39

She telleth and but one of our men was slain, and of them not one es-
of another caped; and when the fight was over we counted four score
battle anc j ten f their arm-rings. "

He said: "Did that or aught else come of our meeting
with them that morning?"

" Nay," she said, "nought came of it : those we slew were
but a straying band. Nay, the four score and ten slain in the
Pine-wood knew not of Shadowy Vale belike, and had no
intent for it: they were but scouring the wood seeking their
warriors that had gone out from Silverdale and came not
aback."

"Thou art wise in war, Bow-may," said Face-of-god, and
he smiled withal.

Bow-may reddened and said : " Friend Gold-mane, dost
thou perchance deem that there is aught ill in my warring?
And the Sun-beam, she naysayeth the bearing of weapons;
though I deem that she hath little fear of them when they
come her way."

Said Face-of-god: "Nay, I deem no ill of it, but much
good. For I suppose that thou hast learned overmuch of the
wont of the Dusky Men, and hast seen their thralls?"

She knitted her brows, and all the merriment went out of
her face at that word, and she answered: "Yea, thou hast it;
for I have both seen their thralls and been in the Dale of
thralldom ; and how then can I do less than I do? But for thee,
I perceive that thou hast been nigh unto our foes and hast
fallen in with their thralls; and that is well; for whatso tales
we had told thee thereof it is like thou wouldst not have
trowed in, as now thou must do, since thou thyself hast seen
these poor folk. But now I will tell thee, Gold-mane, that my
soul is sick of these comings and goings for the slaughter of
a few wretches; and I long for the Great Day of Battle, when
it will be seen whether we shall live or die; and though I
laugh and jest, yet doth the wearing of the days wear me."

He looked kindly on her and said : " I am War-leader of
this Folk, and trust me that the waiting-tide shall not belong;
wherefore now, sister, be merry to-day, for that is but meet
240

and right; and cast aside thy care, for presently shalt thou Face-of-god
behold many new friends. But now meseemeth overlong would lead
have ye been standing before our Gate, and it is time that ye ~* c Gu u 8t ju
should see the inside of our Burg and the inside of our q™*
House."

Indeed by this time so many men had come out of the
street that the place before the Gate was all thronged, and
from where he stood Face-of-god could scarce see his father,
or Folk-might and the Sun-beam and the chieftains.

So he took Wood-father by the hand, and close behind him
came Wood-wise and Bow-may, and he cried out for way
that he might speak with the Alderman, and men gave way
to them, and he led those new-comers close up to the gate-
seats of the Elders, and as he clove the press, smiling and
bright-eyed and happy, all gazed on him ; but the Sun-beam,
who was sitting between Iron-face and the Westland Chap-
man, and who heretofore had been agaze with eyes behold-
ing little, past whose ears the words wen t unheard, and whose
mind wandered into thoughts of things unfashioned yet,
when she beheld him close to her again, then, taken unawares,
her eves caressed him, and she turned as red as a rose, as she
felt all the sweetness of desire go forth from her to meet him.
So that, he perceiving it, his voice was the clearer and sweeter
for the inward joy he felt, as he said:

"Alderman, meseemeth it is now time that we bring our
Guests into the House of our Fathers; for since they are in
warlike array, and we are no longer living in peace, and I am
now War-leader of the Dale, I deem it but meet that I should
have the guesting of them. Moreover, when we are come
into our House, I will bid thee look into thy treasury, that
thou mayst find therein somewhat which it may pleasure us
to give to our Guests."

Said Iron-face: "Thou sayest well, son, and since the day
is now worn past noon, and these folk are but just come from
the Waste, therefore such as we have of meat and drink
abideth them. And surely there is within our house a coffer
which belongeth to thee and me; and forsooth I know not
xv.r 241

The Aider- why we keep the treasures hoarded therein, save that it be
manbiddeth for this cause: that if we were to give to our friends that
the Guests w hich we ourselves use and love, which would be of all things
the town pleasant to us, if we gave them such goods, they would be

worn and worsened by our use of them. For this reason,
therefore, do we keep fair things which we use not, so that
we may give them to our friends.

" Now, Guests, both of the Waste and the Westland, since
here is no Gate-thing or meeting of the Dale-wardens, and
we sit here but for our pleasure, let us go take our pleasure
within doors for a while, if it seem good to you."

Therewith he arose, and the folk made way for him and
his Guests; and Folk-might went on the right hand of Iron-
face, and beside him went the Chapman, who looked on him
with a half-smile, as though he knew somewhat of him. But
on the other side of Iron-face went the Sun-beam, whose hand
he held, and after these came Face-of-God, leading in the rest
of the New-comers, who yet held the flowery branches in
their hands.

Now so mugh had Face-of-god told the Dalesmen, that
they deemed they all knew these men for their battle-fellows
of whom they had heard tell; and this the more as the men
were so goodly and manly of aspect, especially Folk-might,
so that they seemed as if they were nigh akin to the Gods.
As for the Sun-beam, they knew not how to praise her beauty
enough, but they said that they had never known before how
fair the Gods might be. So they raised a great shout of wel-
come as the men came through the Gate into the Burg, and
all men turned their backs on the booths, so eager were they
to behold closely these new friends.

But as the Guests went from the Gate to the House of the
Face, going very slowly because of the press, there in the
front of the throng stood the Bride with the women of the
Runaways, whom she had caused to be clad very fairly; and
she was fain to do them a pleasure by bringing them to sight
of these new-comers, of whom she had not heard who they
were, though she had heard the cry that strangers were at
242

hand. So there she stood smiling a little with the pleasure of The Bride
showing a fair sight to the poor people, as folk do with child- beholdeth
ren. But when she saw those twain going: on each side of the ^ Sun "

beam

Alderman she knew them at once; and when the Sun-beam,
who was on his left side, passed so close to her that she could
see the very smoothness and dainty fashion of her skin, then
was she astonied, and the world seemed strange to her, and
till they were gone by, and for a while afterwards, she knew
not where she was nor what she did, though it seemed to her
as if she still saw the face of that fair woman as in a pifture.

But the Sun-beam had noted her at first, even amongst the
fair women of Burgs tead, and she so steady and bright beside
the wandering timorous eyes and loweringfaces of the thralls.
But suddenly, as eye met eye, she saw her face change; she
saw her cheek whiten, her eyes stare, and her lips quiver, and
she knew at once who it was; for she had not seen her before
as Folk-might had. Then the Sun-beam cast her eyes adown,
lest her compassion might show in her face, and be a fresh
grief to her that had lost the wedding and the love; and so
she passed on.

As for Folk-might, he had seen her at once amongst all
thatfolkas became into thestreet,andinsoothhewas looking
for her; and when he saw her face change, as the sight of the
Sun-beam smote upon her heart, his own face burned with
shame and anger, and he looked back at her as he went toward
the House. But she saw him not, nor noted him ; and none
deemed it strange that he looked long on the Bride, the
treasure of Burgstead. But for some while Folk-might was
few-spoken and sharp-spoken amongst the chieftains; for he
was slow to master his longing and his wrath.

So when all the Guests had entered the door of the House
of the Face, the Alderman turned back, and, standing on the
threshold of his House, spake unto the throng:

" Men of the Dale, and ye Outlanders who may be here,

know that this is a happy day; for hither have come to us

Guests, men of the kindred of the Gods, and they are even

those of whom Face-of-god my son hath told you. And they

R2 243

The Guests are friends of our friends and foes of our foes. These men are

in the Hall now in my House, as is but right ; but when they come forth

of the Face j JqqJ^ to y OU to c herish them in the best way ye know, and

make much of them, as of those who may help us and who

may by us be holpen."

Therewith he went in again and into the Hall, and bade
show the New-comers to the dais; and wine of the best, and
meat such as was to hand, was set before them. He bade men
also get ready high feast as great as might be against the
evening; and they did his bidding straightway.

CHAPTER XXXIII. THE ALDERMAN GIVES
GIFTS TO THEM OF SHADOWY VALE.

IN the Hall of the Face Folk-might sat on the dais at the
right hand of the Alderman, and the Sun-beam on his left
hand. But Iron-face also had beheld the Bride how her
face changed, and he knew the cause, and was grieved and
angry and ashamed thereof: also he bethought him how this
stranger was sitting in the very place where the Bride used
to sit, and of all the love, as of a very daughter, that he had
had for her; howbeit he constrained himself to talk courte-
ously and kindly both to Folk-might and the Sun-beam, as
behoved the Chief of the House and the Alderman of the
Dale. Moreover, he was not a little moved by thegoodliness
and wisdom of the Sun-beam and the manliness of Folk-
might, who was the most chieftain-like of men.

But while they sat there Face-of-God went from man to
man of the Guests, and made much of each, but especially of
Wood-father and his sons and Bow-may, and they loved him,
and praised him, and deemed him the best of hall-mates. Nor
might the Sun-beam altogether refrain her from looking
lovingly on him, and it could be seen of her that she deemed
he was doing well, and like a wise leader and chieftain.

So wore away a while, and men were fulfilled of meat and
drink; so then the Alderman arose and spake, and said:

" Is it not so, Guests, that ye would now gladly behold our
244

market, and the goodly wares which the chapmen have The Alder-
brought us from the Cities ? ,f man is for

Then most men cried out "Yea, yea! " and Iron-face said: the txcuur y
"Then shall ye go, nor be holden by me from your pleasure.
And ye kinsmen who are the most guest-fain and the wisest,
go ye with our friends, and make all things easy and happy
For them. But first of all, Guests, I were well pleased if ye
would take some small matters out of our abundance; for it
were well that ye see them ere ye stand before the chapmen's
booths, lest ye chaffer with them for what ye have already."

They all praised his bounty and thanked him for his good-
will: so he arose to go to his treasury, and bade certain of his
folk go along with him to bear in the gifts. But ere he had
taken three steps down the hall, Face-of-god prevented him
and said :

" Kinsman, if thou hast anywhere a hauberk somewhat
better than folk are wont to bear, such as thine own hand
fashioneth, and a sword of the like stuff, I would have thee
give them, the sword to my brother-in-arms Wood-wise
here, and the war-coat to my sister Bow-may, who shooteth
so well in the bow that none may shoot closer, and very few
as close ; and her shaft it was that delivered me when my skull
was amongst the axes of the Dusky Men: else had I not been
here."

Thereat Bow-may reddened and looked down, like a
scholar who hath been over-praised for his learning and dili-
gence; but the Alderman smiled on her and said:

" I thank thee, son, that thou hast let me know what these
our two friends may be fain of: and as for this damsel-at-arms,
it is a little thing that thouaskest for her,and we might have
found her something more worthy of her goodliness; yet
forsooth, since we are all bound for the place where shafts and
staves shall begood cheap, a greater treasure might be of less
avail to her."

Thereat men laughed, and the Alderman went down the
Hall with those bearers of gifts, and was away for a space while
they drank and made merry: but presently back they came

245

Gifts given from the treasury bearing loads of goodly things which were
laid on oneof the endlongboards. Then began thegift-gi ving :
and first he gave unto Folk-might six golden cups marvel-
lously fashioned, the work of four generations ot wrights in
the Dale, and he himself had wrought the last two thereof.
To Sun-beam he gave a girdle of gold, fashioned with great
mastery, whereon were images of the Gods and the Fathers,
and warriors, and beasts of the field and fowls of the air; and
as he girt it about her loins, he said in a soft voice so that few
heard:

c< Sun-beam, thou fair woman, time has been when thou
wert to us as the edge of the poisonous sword or the midnight
torch of the murderer ; but now I know not how it will be, or
if the grief which thou hast given me will ever wear out or
not. And now that I have beheld thee, I have little to do to
blame my son; for indeed when I look on thee I cannot deem
that there is any evil in thee. Yea, however it may be, take
thou this gift as the reward of thine exceeding beauty."

She looked on him with kind eyes, and said meekly:

" Indeed, if I have hurt thee unwittingly, I grieve to have
hurt so good a man. Hereafter belike we may talk more of
this, but now I will but say, that whereas at first I needed but
to win thy son's goodwill, so that our Folk might come to
life and thriving again, now it is come to this, that he holdeth
my heart in his hand and may do what he will with it; there-
fore I pray thee withhold not thy love either from him or
from me."

He looked on her wondering, and said: "Thou art such
an one as might make the old man young, and the boy grow
into manhood suddenly ; and thy voice is as sweet as the voice
of the song-birds singing in the dawn of early summer sound-
eth to him who hath been sick unto death, but who hath
escaped it and is mending. And yet I fear thee."

Therewith he kissed her hand and turned unto the others,
and hegave unto Bow-may a hauberk of ring-mail of his own
fashioning, a sure defence and a wonderful work, and the
collar thereof was done with gold and gems.

But he said to her: "Fair damsel-at-arms, faithful is thy
246

face, and the fashion of thee is goodly : now art thou become Bow-may
one of the best of our friends, and this is little enough to give getteth the
thee; yet would we fain ward thy body against the foeman; Hauberk
so grieve us not by gainsaying us."

And Bow-may was exceeding glad, and scarce knew how
to cease handling that marvel or ring-mail.

Then to Wood-wise Iron-face gave a most goodly sword,
thebladeall marked with darklineslikethestreamofan eddy-
ing river, the hilts of steel and gold marvellously wrought;
and all the work of a smith who had dwelt in the house of his
father's father, and was a great warrior.

Unto Wood-father he gave a very goodly helm parcel-
gilded; and to his sons and the other folk fair gifts of weapons
and jewels and girdles and cups and other good things; so
that their hearts were full of joy, and they all praised his open
hand.

Then some of the best and merriest of the kinsmen of the
Face, and Face-of-god with them, brought the Guests out
into the street and among the booths. There Face-of-god
beheld the Bride again; and she was standing by the booth
ofachapman and dealingwith him for apieceof goodly silken
cloth to be a gown for one of her guests, and she was talking
and smiling as she chaffered with him, as her wont was; for
shewas eververy friendlyof demeanourwith all men. But he
noted that she was yet exceeding pale, and he was right sorry
thereof, for he loved her friendly; yet now had he no shame
for all that had befallen, when he bethought him of the Sun-
beam and the love she had for him. And also he had a deem-
ing that the Bride would better of her grief.

CHAPTER XXXIV. THE CHIEFTAINS TAKE
COUNSEL IN THE HALL OF THE FACE.

THEN turned Face-of-god back into the Hall, and saw
where Iron-face sat at the dais, and with him Folk-
might and Stone-face and the Elder of the Dale-
wardens, and Sun-beam withal; so he went soberly up to the
board, and sat himself down thereat beside Stone-face, over

247

Face-of-god against Folk-might and his father, beside whom sat the
cometh in to Sun-beam ; and Folk-might looked on him gravely, as a man
the Council p OWcr ful anc j trustworthy, yet was his look somewhat sour.

Then the Alderman said : " My son, I said not to thee come
back presently, because I wotted that thou wouldst surely do
so, knowing that we have much to speak of. For, whatever
these thy friends may have done, or whatsoever thou hast
done with them to grieve us, all that must be set aside at this
present time, since the matter in hand is to save the Dale and
its folk. What sayest thou hereon? Since, young as thou
may st be, thou art our War-leader, and doubtless shalt so be
after the Folk-mote hath been holden."

Face-of-god answered not hastily: indeed, as he sat think-
ing for a minute or two, the fair spring day seemed to dark-
en about them or to glare into the light ot flames amidst the
night-tide; and the joyous clamour without doors seemed to
grow hoarse and fearful as the sound of wailing and shriek-
ing. But he spake firmly and simply in a clear voice, and said:

"There can be no two words concerning what we have to
aim at; these Dusky Men we must slay everyone, though
we be fewer than they be."

Folk-might smiled and nodded his head; but the others
sat staring down the hall or into the hangings.

Then spake Folk-might: "Thou wert a boy methought
when I cast my spear at thee last autumn, Face-of-god, but
now hast thou grown into a man. Now tell me, whatdeemest
thou we must do to sky them all?"

Said Face-of-god: "Once again it is clear that we must
fall upon them at home in Rosedale and Silverdale."

Again Folk-might nodded: but Iron-face said:

" Needeth this ? May we not ward the Dale and send many
bands into the wood to fell upon them when we meet them?
Yea, and so doing these our guests have already slain many,
as this valiant man hath told e'en now. Will ye not slay so
many at last, that they shall learn to fear us, and abide at home
and leave us at peace?"

But Face-of-god said: "Meseemeth, father, that this is
248

not thy rede, and that thou sayest this but to try me: and They talk
perchance ye have been talking about me when I was with- of what is
out in the street e'en now. Even if it might be that we should toward
thus cow these felons into abiding at home and tormenting
their own thralls at their ease, yet how then are our friends
of the Wolf holpen to their own again? And I shall tell thee
that I have promised to this man and this woman that I will
give them no less than a man's help in this matter. More-
over, I have spoken in every house of the Dale, and to the
Shepherds and the Woodlanders, and there is no man
amongst them but will follow me in the quarrel. Further-
more, they have heard of the thralldom that is done on men
no great way from their own houses; yea, they have seen it;
and they remember the old saw, € Grief in thy neighbour's
hall is grief in thy garth,' and sure it is, father, that whether
thou or I gainsay them, go they will to deliver the thralls of
the Dusky Men, and will leave us alone in the Dale."

"This is no less than sooth," said the Dale-warden, "never
have men gone forth more joyously to a merry-making than
all men of us shall wend to this war."

"But," said Face-of-god, "of one thing ye may be sure,
that these men will not abide our pleasure till we cut them
all off in scattered bands, nor will they sit deedless at home.
Nor indeed may they; for we have heard from their thralls
that they look to have fresh tribes of them come to hand to
eat their meat and waste their servants, and these and they
must find new abodes and new thralls; and they are now
warned by the overthrows and slayings that they have had
at our hands that we are astir, and they will not delay long,
but will fell upon us with all their host; it might even be to-
day or to-morrow."

Said Folk-might: "In all this thou sayest sooth, brother
of the Dale; and to cut this matter short, I will tell you all,
that yesterday we had with us a runaway from Silverdale (it
is overlong to tell how we fell in with her ; for it was a woman).
But she told us that this very moon is a new tribe come into the
Dale, six long hundreds in number, and twice as many more

249

• *mi

The intent are looked for in two eights of days, and that ere this moon

of the Dusky hath waned, that is, in twenty-four days, they will wend their

Men ways straight for Burgdale, for they know the ways thereto.

So I say that Face-of-god is right in all wise. But tell me,

brother, hast thou thought of how we shall come upon these

men?"

"How many men wilt thou lead into battle?" said Face-
of-god.

Folk-might reddened, and said: "A few, a few; maybe
two hundreds all told."

"Yea," said Face-of-god, "but some special gain wilt thou
be to us."

" So I deem at least," said Folk-might.

Said Face-of-god : " Good is that. Now have we held our
Weapon-show in the Dale, and we find that we together with
you be sixteen long hundreds of men; and the tale of the foe-
men that be now in Silverdale, new-comers and all, shall be
three thousands or thereabout, and in Rosedale hard on a
thousand."

"Scarce so many," said Folk-might; "some of the Felons
have died; we told over our silver arm-rings yesterday, and
the tale was three hundred and eighty and six. Besides, they
were never so many as thou deemest."

"Well," said Face-of-god, "yet at least they shall out-
number us sorely. We may scarce leave the Dale unguarded
when our host is gone ; therefore I deem that we shall have
but one thousand of men for our onslaught on Silverdale."

" How come ye to that?" said Stone-face.

Said Face-of-god: "Abide a while, fosterer! Though the
odds between us be great, it is not to be hidden that I wot
how ye of the Wolf know of privy passes into Silverdale ;
yea, into the heart thereof; and this is the special gain ye have
to give us.Therefore we, the thousand men, falling on the foe
unawares, shall make a great slaughter of them; and if the
murder be but grim enough, those thralls of theirs shall fear
us and not them, as already they hate them and not us, so that
we may look to them for rooting out these sorry weeds after
the overthrow. And what with one thing, what with another,
250

wc may cherish a good hope of clearing Silverdale at one They talk
stroke with the said thousand men, of the two

"There remaineth Rosedale, which will be easier to deal Jjj^jj^
with, because the Dusky Men therein are fewer and the
thralls as many: that also would I fall on at the same time as
we fell on Silverdale with the men that are left over from the
Silverdale onslaught. Wherefore my rede is, that we gather
all those unmeet for battle in the field into this Burg, with
ten tens of men to strengthen them; which shall be enough
for them, along with the old men, and lads, and sturdy
women, to derend themselves till help comes, if aught of
evil befall, or to flee into the mountains, or at the worst to die
valiantly. Then let the other five hundreds fare up to Rose-
dale, and fell on the Dusky Men therein about the same time,
but not before our onslaught on Silverdale: thus shall hand
help foot, so that stumbling be not falling; and we may well
hope that our rede shall thrive."

Then was he silent, and the Sun-beam looked upon him
with gleaming eyes and parted lips, waiting eagerly to hear
what Folk-mightwould say. He held hispeaceawhile,drum-
mingon the board with his fingers, and none else spake a word.
At last he said :

" War-leader of Burgdale, all that thou hast spoken likes
me well, and even so must it be done, saving that parting of
our host and sending one part to fall upon Rosedale. I say,
nay; let us put all our might into that one stroke on Silver-
dale, and then we are undone indeed if we fail; but so shall
we be if we fail anywise; but if we win Silverdale, then shall
Rosedale lie open before us.'*

" My brother," said Face-of-god, " thou art a tried warrior,
and I but a lad: but dost thou not see this, that whatever we
do, we shall not at one onslaught slay all the Dusky Men of
Silverdale, and those that flee before us shall betake them to
Rosedale, and tell all the tale, and what shall hinder them
then from falling on Burgdale (since they are no great way
from it) after they have murdered what they will of the un-
happy people under their hands? "

Said Folk-might : " I say not but that there is a risk thereof,

251

They hold
rede con-
cerning the
winning of
Rosedale

but in war we must needs run such risks, and all should be
risked rather than that our blow on Silverdale be light. For
we be the fewer; and if the foemen have time to call that to
mind, then are we all lost"

Said Stone-face: " Meseemeth, War-leader, that there is
nought so much to dread in leaving Rosedale to itself for a
while; for not only may we follow hard on the fleers if they
flee to Rosedale, and be there no long time after them, before
they have time to stir their host ; but also after the overthrow
we shall be free to send men back to Burgdale by way of
Shadowy Vale. I deem that herein Folk-might hath the right
ofit."

"Even so say I," said the Alderman; "besides, we might
then leave more folk behind us for the warding of the Dale.
So, son, the risk whereof thou speakest groweth the lesser
the longer it is looked on."

Then spake the Dale-warden :" Yet saving your wisdom,
Alderman, the risk is there yet. For if these felons come into
the Dale at all, even if the folk left behind hold the Burg and
keep themselves unmurdered, yet may they not hinder the
foe from spoiling our homesteads; so that our folk coming
back in triumph shall find ruin at home, and spend weary days
in hunting their foemen, who shall, many of them, escape into
the Wild-wood."

" Yea," said the Sun-beam," sooth is that ; and Face-of-god
is wise to think of it and of other matters. Yet one thing we
must bear in mind, that all may not go smoothly in our day's
work in Silverdale; so we must have force there to fall back
on, in case we miss our stroke at first. Therefore, I say, send
we no man to Rosedale, and leave we no able man-at-arms
behind in the Burg, so that we have with us every blade that
may be gathered.'

Iron-face smiled and said: "Thou art wise, damsel; and I
marvel that so fair-fashioned a thing as thou can think so
hardly of the meeting of the fallow blades. But hearken! will
not the Dusky Men hear that we have stripped the Dale of
fighting-men, and may they not then give our host the go-by
and send folk to ruin us? "
252

There was silence while Face-of-god looked down on the Divers redes
board ; but presently he lifted up his face and said:

" Folk-might was right when he said that all must be
risked. Let us leave Rosedale till we have overcome them
of Silverdale. Moreover, my father, thou must not deem of
these felons as if they were of like wits to us, to forecast the
deeds to come, and weigh the chances nicely, and unravel
tangled clews. Rather they move like to the stares in autumn,
or the winter wild-geese, and will all be thrust forward by
some sting that entereth into their imaginations. Therefore,
if they have appointed one moon to wear before they fall upon
us, they will not stir till then, and we have time enough to do
what must be done. Wherefore am I now of one mind with
the rest of you. Now meseemeth it were well that these things
which we have spoken here, and shall speak, should not be
noised abroad openly ; nay, at the Folk-mote it would be well
that nought be said about the day or the way of our onslaught
on Silverdale, lest the foe take warning and be on their guard.
Though, sooth to say, did I deem that if they had word of our
intent they of Rosedale would join themselves to them of
Silverdale, and that we should thus have all our foes in one
net, then were I fain if the word would reach them. For my
soul loathes the hunting that shall befall up and down the
wood for the slaying ofa man here, and two or three there,
and the wearing of the days in wandering up and down with
weapons in the hand, and the spinning out of hatred and de-
laying of peace."

Then Iron-face reached his hand across the board and took
his son's hand, and said:

" Hail to thee, son, for thy word! Herein thou speakest as
if from my very soul, and fain am I of such a War-leader."

And desire drew the eyes of the Sun-beam to Face-of-god,
and she beheld him proudly. But he said:

"All hath been spoken that the others of us may speak;
and now it felleth to the part of Folk-might to order our
goings for the tryst for the onslaught, and the trysting-place
shall be in Shadowy Vale. How sayest thou, Chier of the
Wolf?"

*53

Face-of- Said Folk-might: "I have little to say; and it is for the

god's full War-leader to see to this closely and piecemeal. I deem, as we
m,nd all deem, that there should be no delay; yet were it best to

wend not all together to Shadowy Vale, but in divers bands,
as soon as ye may after the Folk-mote, by the sure and nigh
ways that we shall show you. And when we are gathered
there, short is the rede, for all is ready there to wend by the
passes which we know throughly, and whereby it is but two
days' journey to the head of Silverdale, nigh to the caves of
the silver, where the Felons dwell the thickest."

He set his teeth, and his colour came and went : for as con-
stantly as the onslaught had been in his mind, yet whenever
he spake of the great day of battle, hope and joy and anger
wrought a tumult in his soul; and now that it was so nigh
withal, he could not refrain his joy.

But he spake again : c< Now therefore, War-leader, it is for
thee to order the goings of thy folk. But I will tell thee that
they shall not need to take aught with them save their weapons
and victual for the way, that is, for thirty hours; because all
is ready for them in Shadowy Vale, though it be but a poor
place as to victual. Canst thou tell us, therefore, what thou
wilt do?"

Face-of-god had knit his brows and become gloomy of
countenance ; but now his face cleared, and he set his hand to
his pouch, and drew forth a written parchment, and said :

"This is the order whereof I have bethought me. Before
the Folk-mote I and the Wardens shall speak to the leaders
of hundreds, who be mostly here at the Fair, and give them
the day and the hour whereon they shall, each hundred, take
their weapons and wend to Shadowy Vale, and also the place
where they shall meet the men of yours who shall lead them
across the Waste. These hundred-leaders shall then go
straightway and give the word to the captains of scores, and
the captains of scores to the captains of tens ; and if, as is scarce
doubtful, the Folk-mote yea-says the onslaught and the fel-
lowship with you of the Wolf, then shall those leaders of tens
bring their men to the trysting-place,and so go their ways to
254

Shadowy Vale. Now here I have the roll of our Weapon-show, The Roll of
and I will look to it that none shall be passed over; and if ye the Weapon
ask me in what order they had best get on the way, my rede show
is that a two hundred should depart on the very evening of
the day of the Folk-mote, and these to be of our folk of the
Upper Dale;andon the morningof the morrow of the Folk-
mote another two hundreds from the Dale ; and in the even- The order of
ing of the same day the folk of the Shepherds, three hundreds the Hosting
or more, and that will be easy to them; again on the next day
two more bands of the Lower Dale, one in the morning, one
in the evening. Lastly, in the earliest dawn of the third day
from the Folk-mote shall the Woodlanders wend their ways.
But one hundred of men let us leave behind for the warding
of the Burg, even as we agreed before. As for the place of tryst
for the faring over the Waste, let it be the end of the knolls
just by the jaws of the pass yonder, where the Weltering
Water comes into the Dale from the East. How say ye?"

They all said, and Folk-might especially, that it was right
well devised, and that thus it should be done.

Then turned Face-of-god to the Dale- warden, and said:

c< It were good, brother, that we saw the other wardens as
soon as may be, to do them to wit of this order, and what they
have to do."

Therewith hearoseand took the Elder of the Dale-wardens
away with him,and the twain set about their businessstraight-
way. Neither did the others abide long in the Hall, but went
out into the Burg to see the chapmen and their wares. There
the Alderman bought what he needed of iron and steel
and other matters; and Folk-might cheapened him a dagger
curiously wrought, and a web of gold and silk for the Sun-
beam, for which wares he paid in silver arm-rings, new-
wrought and of strange fashion.

But amidst of the chaffer was nowagreat ringof men;and
in the midst of the ring stood Redesman, fiddle and bow in
hand, and with him were four damsels wondrously arrayed ;
for the first was clad in a smock so craftily wrought with
threads of green and many colours, that it seemed like a piece

Aplayamidst of thegrecn field beset with primroses and cowslips and hare-
thc market bells and windflowers, rather than a garment woven and

sewn ; and in her hand she bore a naked sword, with golden
hilts and gleaming blade. But the second bore on her roses
done in like manner, both blossoms and green leaves, where-
with her body was covered decently, which else had been
naked. The third was clad as though she were wading the
wheat-field to the waist, and above was wrapped in the leaves
and bunches of the wine-tree. And the fourth was clad in a
scarlet gown flecked with white wool to set forth the winter's
snow, and broidered over with the burning brands of the
Holy Hearth ;and she boreon her head agarland of mistletoe.
And these four damsels were clearly seen to image the four
seasons of the year — Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter.
But amidst them stood a fountain or conduit of gilded work
cunningly wrought,and full of the best wineof the Dale, and
gilded cups and beakers hung about it

So now Redesman fell to caressing his fiddle with the bow
till it began to make sweet music, and therewith the hearts of
all danced with it; and presently words came into his mouth,
and he fell to singing; and the damsels answered him :

Earth-wielders, that fashion the Dale-dwellers' treasure,
Soft are ye by seeming, yet hardy of heart!

No warrior amongst us withstandeth your pleasure;
No man from his meadow may thrust you apart.

Fresh and fair are your bodies, but far beyond telling
Are the years of your lives, and the craft ye have stored.

Come give us a word, then, concerning our dwelling,
And the days to befall us, the fruit of the sword.

WINTER SAITH:

When last in the feast-hall the Yule-fire flickered,
The foot of no foeman fared over the snow,

And nought but the wind with the ash-branches bickered :
Next Yule ye may deem it a long time ago.
256

AUTUM N SAITH : A man

Loud laughed ye last year in the wheat-field a-smiting ; taketh the

Andyelaughedasyourbacksdravethebeamofthepress. sword
When the edge of the war-sword the acres are lighting

Look up to the Banner and laugh ye no less.

SUMMER SAITH:
Ye called and I came, and how good was the greeting,

When ye wrapped me in roses both bosom and side!
Here yet shall I long, and be fain of our meeting,

As hidden from battle your coming I bide.

SPRING SAITH:
I am here for your comfort, and lo! what I carry;

The blade with the bright edges bared to the sun.
To the field, to the work then, that e'en I may tarry

For the end of the tale in my first days begun!

Therewith the throng opened, and a young man stepped
lightly into the ring, clad in very fair armour, with a gilded
helm on his head; and he took the sword from the hand of
the Maiden of Spring, and waved it in the air till the westering
sun flashed back from it. Then each of the four damsels went
up to the swain and kissed his mouth; and Redesman drew
the bow across the strings, and the four damsels sang together,
standing round about the young warrior:

It was but a while since for earth's sake we trembled,
Lest the increase our life-days had won for the Dale,

All the wealth that the moons and the years had assembled,
Should be but a mock for the days of your bale.

But now we behold the sun smite on the token
In the hand of the Champion, the heart of a man;

We look down the long years and see them unbroken ;
Forth fareth the Folk by the ways it began.

xv.s 257

Men take So bid ye these chapmen in autumn returning,

drink at the To bring iron for ploughshares and steel for the scythe,

damsels* ^nd t jj e over-sea oil that hath felt the sun's burning,

And fair webs for your women soft-spoken and blithe ;

And pledge ye your word in the market to meet them,

As many a man and as many a maid,
As eager as ever, as guest-fain to greet them,

And bide till the booth from the waggon is made.

Come, guests of our lovers ! for we, the year-wielders,
Bid each man and all to come hither and take

A cup from our hands midst the peace of our shielders,
And drink to the days of the Dale that we make.

Then went the damsels to that wine-fountain, and drew
thence cups of the best and brightest wine of the Dale, and
went round about the ring, and gave drink to whomsoever
would, both of the chapmen and the others; while the weap-
oned youth stood in the midst bearing aloft his sword and
shield like an image in a holy place, and Redes man's bow still
went up and down the strings, and drew forth a sweet and
merry tune.

Great game it was now to see the stark Burgdale carles
dragging the Men of the Plain, little loth, up to the front of
the ring, that they might stretch out their hands for a cup,
and how many a one, as he took it, took as much as he might
of the damsel's hand withal. As for the damsels, they played
the Holy Play very daintily, neither reddening nor laughing,
but faring so solemnly, and withal so sweetly and bright-
faced, that it might well have been deemed that they were in
very sooth Maidens of the God of Earth sent from the ever-
enduring Hall to cheer the hearts of men.

So simply and blithely did the Men of Burgdale disport
them after the manner of their fathers, trusting in their valour
and beholding the good days to be.

So wore the evening, and when night was come, men
258

feasted throughout the Burg from house to house, and every Night in
hall was full. But the Guests from Shadowy Vale feasted in the Burg
the Hall of the Face in all glee and goodwill; and with them
were the chief of the chapmen and two others ; but the rest of
them had been laid hold of by goodmen of the Burg, and
dragged into their feast-halls, tor they were fain of those
guests and their tales. One of the chapmen in the House of
the Face knew Folk-might, and hailed him by the name he
had borne in the Cities, Regulus to wit; indeed, the chief
chapman knew him, and even somewhat over-well, for he
had been held to ransom by Folk-might in those past days,
and even yet feared him, because he, the chapman, had played
somewhat of a dastard's part to him. But the other was an
open-hearted and merry fellow, and no weakling; and Folk-
might was fain of his talk concerning times bygone, and the
fields they had foughten in, and other adventures that had
befallen them, both good and evil.

As for Face-of-god, he went about the Hall soberly, and
spake no more than behoved him, so as not to seem a mar-
feast; for the image of the slaughter to beyet abode with him,
and his heart foreboded the after-grief of the battle. He had
no speech with the Sun-beam till men were sundering after
the feast; and then he came close to her amidst of the turmoil,
and said :

"Time presses on me these days; but if thou wouldest
speak with me to-morrow as I would with thee, then mightest
thou go on the Bridge of the Burg about sunrise, and I will
be there, and we two only."

Her face, which had been somewhat sad that evening (for
she had been watching his), brightened at that word, and she
took his hand as folk came thronging roundabout them, and
said: "Yea, friend, I shall be there, and fain of thee." And
therewithal they sundered for that night.

And all men went to sleep throughout the Burg: howbeit

they set a watch at the Burg-Gate; and Hall-face, when he

was coming back from the woodland ward about sunset, fell

in with Red-coat of Waterless and four score men on the

S2 259

Morning in Portway coming to meet him and take his place. All which

the meadows was clean contrary to the wont of the Burgdalers, who at

most whiles held no watch and ward, not even in Fair-time.

CHAPTER XXXV. FACE-OF-GOD TALKETH
WITH THE SUN-BEAM.

FACE-OF-GOD was at the Bridge on the morrow be-
fore sun-rising, and as he turned about at the Bridge-
foot he saw the Sun-beam coming down the street; and
his heart rose to his mouth at the sight of her, and he went to
meet her and took her by the hand ; and there were no words
between them till they had kissed and caressed each other,
for there was no one stirring about them. So they went over
the Bridge into the meadows, and eastward of the beaten
path thereover.

The grass was growing thick and strong, and it was full of
flowers, as the cowslip and the oxlip, and the chequered
daffodil, and the wild tulip : the black-thorn was well-nigh
done blooming, but the hawthorn was in bud, and in some
places growing white. It was a fair morning, warm and cloud-
less, but the night had been misty, and the haze still hung
about the meadows of the Dale where they were wettest, and
the grass and its flowers were heavy with dew, so that the
Sun-beam went barefoot in the meadow. She had adark cloak
cast over her kirtle, and had left her glittering gown behind
her in the House.

They went along hand in hand exceeding fain of each
other, and the sun rose as they went, and the long beams of
gold shone through the tops of the tall trees across the grass
they trod, and a light wind rose up in the north, as Face-of-
god stayed a moment and turned toward the Face of the Sun
and prayed to Him, while the Sun-beam's hand left the War-
leader's hand and stole up to his golden locks and lay amongst
them.

Presently they went on, and the feet of Face-of-god led
him unwitting toward the chestnut-grove by the old dyke
260

where he had met the Bride such a little while ago, till he be- They fell to
thought whither he was going and stopped short and red- »p«ech in the
dened;and the Sun-beam noted it, but spake not; but he {^ e hora
said : " Hereby is a fair place for us to sit and talk till the day's
work beginneth."

So then he turned aside, and soon they came to a hawthorn
brake out of which arose a great tall-stemmed oak, showing
no green as yet save a little on its lower twigs; and anigh it,
yet with room for its boughs to grow freely, was a great bird-
cherry tree, all covered now with sweet-smelling white blos-
soms. There they sat down on the trunk of a tree felled last
year, and she cast offher cloak, and took his face between her
two hands and kissed him long and fondly, and for a while
their joy had no word. But when speech came to them, it was
she that spake first and said :

<c Gold-mane, my dear, sorely I wonder at thee and at me,
how we are changed since that day last autumn when I first
saw thee. Whiles 1 think, didst thou not laugh when thou
wert by thyself that day, and mock at me privily, that I must
needs take such wisdom on myself, and lesson thee standing
like a stripling before me. Dost thou not call it all to mind
and make merry over it, now that thou art become a great
chieftain and a wise warrior, and I am yet what I always was,
a young maiden of the kindred; save that now I abide no
longer tor my love? "

Her face was exceeding bright and rippled with joyous
smiles, and he looked at her and deemed that her heart was
overflowing with happiness, and he wondered at her indeed
that she was so glad of him, and he said :

"Yea, indeed, oft do I see that morning in the woodland
hall and thee and me therein, as one lookethon a picture; yea
verily, and I laugh, yet is it for very bliss; neither do I mock
at all. Did I not deem thee a God then? and am I not most
happy now when I can call it thus to mind? And as to thee,
thou wert wise then, and yet art thou wise now. Yea, I
thought thee a God ; and if we are changed, is it not rather that
thou hast lifted me up to thee, and not come down to me? "

261

They talk of Yet therewithal he knit his brows somewhat and said :
the change « Yet thou hast not to tell me that all thy love for thy Folk,
of days an( j t ^y y earn i n g hope for its recoverance, was but a painted

show. Else why shouldst thou love me the better now that I
am become a chieftain, and therefore am more meet to under-
stand thy hope and thy sorrow? Did I not behold thee as we
stood before the Wolt of the Hall of Shadowy Vale, how the
tears stood in thine eyes as thou beheldest him, and thine
hand in mine quivered and clung to me, and thou wert all
changed in a moment of time? Was all this then but a seem-
ing and a beguilement?"

" O young man," she said, " hast thou not said it, that we
stood there close together, and my hand in thine and desire
growing up in me? Dost thou not know how this also quick-
eneth the story of our Folk, and our goodwill towards the
living, and remembrance of the dead? Shall they have lived
and desired, and we deny desire and life? Or tell me: what
was it made thee so chieftain-like in the Hall yesterday, so
that thou wert the master of all our wills, for as self-willed as
some of us were? Was it not that I, whom thou deemest
lovely, was thereby watching thee and rejoicing in thee? Did
not the sweetness of thy love quicken thee? Yet because of
that was thy warrior's wisdom and thy foresight an empty
show ? Heedest thou nought the Folk of the Dale ? Wouldest
thou sunder from the children of the Fathers, and dwell
amongst strangers?"

He kissed her and smiled on her and said: "Did I not say
of thee that thou wert wiser than the daughters of men? See
how wise thou hast made me! "

She spake again : " Nay, nay, there was no feigning in my
love for my people. How couldest thou think it, when the
Fathers and the kindred have made this body that thou
lovest, and the voice of their songs is in the speech thou
deemest sweet?"

He said: "Sweet friend, I deemed not that there was
feigning in thee: I was but wondering what I am and how I
was fashioned, that I should make thee so glad that thou
262

couldst for a while forget thy hope of the days before we Face-of-god

met/* made wise

She said : " O how glad, how glad! Yet was I nought hap- by ,ovc
less. In despite of all trouble I had no down-weighing grief,
and I had the hope of my people before me. Good were my
days; but I knew not till now how glad a child of man may
be."

Their words were hushed for a while amidst their caresses.
Then she said:

u Gold-mane, my friend, I mocked not my past selfbecause
I deem that I was a fool then, but because I see now that all
that my wisdom could do, would have come about without
my wisdom; and that thou, deeming thyself something less
than wise, didst accomplish the thing I craved, and that which
thou didst crave also; and withal wisdom embraced thee,
along with love."

Therewith she cast her arms about him and said :

"O friend, I mock my self of this: that erst thoudeemedst
me a God and fearedst me, but now thou seemest to me to be a
God, and I fear thee. Yea, though I have longed so sore to be
with thee since the day of Shadowy Vale, and though I have
wearied of the slow wearingofthedays, and it hath tormented
me; vet now that I am with thee, I bless the torment of my
longing; for it is but my longing that compelleth me to cast
away my fear of thee and caress thee, because I have learned
how sweet it is to love thee thus."

He wound his arms about her, and sweeter was their
longing than mere joy; and though their love was beyond
measure, yet was therein no shame to aught, not even to the
lovely Dale and that fair season of spri ng, so goodly they were
among the children of men.

In a while theyaroseand turned homeward, and went over
the open meadow, and it was yet early, and the dew was as
heavy on the grass as before, though the wide sunlight was
now upon it, glittering on the wet blades, and shining through
the bells of the chequered daffodils till they looked like gouts
ofblood.

263

On the "Look," said Sun-beam, as they went along by the same

way back wa y whereas they came, "deemestthou not that other speech-
friends besides us have been abroad to talk together apart on
this morning of the eve of battle? It is nought unwonted,
that we do, even though we forget the trouble of the people
to think of our own joy for a while."

The smile died out of her face as she spoke, and she said:
" O friend, this much may I say for myself in all sooth, that
indeed I would die for the kindred and its good days, nor
falter therein; but if I am to die, might I but die in thine
armsl"

He looked very lovingly on her, and put his arm about
her and kissed her and said: "What ails us to stand in the
doom-ring and bear witness against ourselves before the
kindred? Nowlwill say, that whatsoever the kindred mayor
can call upon me to do, that will I do, nor grudge the deed :
I am sackless before them. But that is true which I spake to
thee when we came together up out of Shadowy Vale, to wit,
that I am no strifeful man, but a peaceful ; and I look to it to
win through this war, and find on the other side either death,
or life amongst a happy folk; and I deem that this is mostly
the mind of our people."

She said: "Thou shalt not die, thou shalt not diel "

"Mayhappen not," he said; "yet yesterday I could not
but look into the slaughter to come, and it seemed to me a
grim thing, and darkened the day for me; and I grew acold
as a man walking with the dead. But tell me: thou sayest I
shall not die; dost thou say this only because I am become
dear to thee, or dost thou speak it out of thy foresight of
things to come?"

She stopped and looked silently a while over the meadows
towards the houses of the Thorp: they were standingnowon
the borderof a shallow brook that randown toward the Wel-
tering Water; it had a little strand of fine sand like the sea-
shore, driven close together, and all moist, because that brook
was used to flood the meadow for the feeding of the grass ;
and the last evening the hatches which held up the water had
264

been drawn, so that m uch had ebbed away and left the strand Foot-prints
aforesaid. in the sand

After a while the Sun-beam turned to Face-of-god, and
she was become somewhat pale; she said :

" Nay, 1 have striven to see, and can see nought save the
pidure of hope and fear that I make for myself. So it oft be-
falleth foreseeing women, that the love of a man cloudeth
their vision. Be content, dear friend; it is for life or death;
but whichso it be, the same for me and thee together? "

"Yea," he said," and well content I am; so now let each of
us trust in theother to be bothgood and dear, even as I trusted
in thee the first hour that I looked on thee."

"It is well," she said; "it is well. How fair thou art; and
how fair is the morn, and this our Dale in the goodly season ;
and all this abideth us when the battle is over."

Once more her voice became sweet and wheedling, and
the smile lit up her face again, and she pointed down to the
sand with her finger, and said:

" See thou ! Here indeed have other lovers passed by across
the brook. Shall we wish them good luck?"

He laughed and looked down on the sand, and said :

"Thou art in haste to make a story up. Indeed I see that
these first footprints are of a woman, for no carle of the Dale
has a foot as small; for we be tall fellows; and these others
withal are a man's footprints; and if they showed that they
had been walking side by side, simple had been thy tale; but
so it is not. I cannot say that these two pairs of feet went over
the brook within five minutes of each other; but sure it is
that they could not have been faring side by side. Well, belike
they were lovers bickering, and we may wish them luck out
of that. Truly it is well seen that Bow-may hath done thine
hunting for thee, dear friend; or else wouldest thou have
lacked venison; for thou hast no hunter's eye."

" Well," she said, " but wish them luck, and give me thine
hand upon it."

He took her hand, and fondled it, and said: "By this hand
of my speech-friend, I wish these twain all luck, in love and

265

They come in leisure, in faring and fighting, in sowing and samming, in
back to the getting and giving. Is it well enough wished? If so it be, then
House come thy ways, dear friend ; for the day's work is at hand."

" 1 1 is well wished, " she said. " Now hearken : by the valiant
hand of the War-leader, by the hand that shall unloose my
girdle, I wish these twain to be as happy as we be."

He made as if to draw her away, but she hung aback to set
the print of her foot beside the woman's foot, and then they
went on together, and soon crossed the Bridge, and came
home to the House of the Face.

When they had broken their fast, Face-of-god would
straight get to his business of ordering matters for the war-
fare, and was wishful to speak with Folk-might; but found
him not, either in the House or the street. But a man said:

" I saw the tall Guest come abroad from the House and go
toward the Bridge very early in the morning."

The Sun-beam, who was anigh when that was spoken,
heard it and smiled, and said: " Gold-mane, deemest thou
that it was my brother whom we blessed? "

" 1 wot not," he said; "but I would he were here, for this
gear must speedily be looked to."

Nevertheless it was nigh an hour before Folk-might came
home to the House. He strode in lightly and gaily, and
shaking the crest of his war-helm as he went He looked
friendly on Face-of-god, and said to him :

"Thou hast been seeking me, War-leader; but grudge it
not that I have caused thee to tarry. Foras things have gone,
I am twice the man for thine helping that I was y ester-eve;
and thou art so ready and deft, that all will be done in due
time."

He looked as if he would have had Face-of-god ask of him
what made him so fain, but Face-of-god said only:

" I am glad of thy gladness; but now let us dally no longer,
for I have many folk to see to-day and much to set a-going."

So therewith they spake together a while, and then went
their ways together toward Carlstead and the Woodlanders.

266

CHAPTER XXXVI. FOLK-MIGHT SPEAKETH
WITH THE BRIDE.

IT must be told that those footprints which Face-of-god Folk-might
and the Sun-beam had blessed betwixt jest and earnest abroad
had more to do with them than they wotted of. For Folk- Crimes
might, who had had many thoughts and longings since he
had seen the Bride again, rose up early about sunrise, and
went out-a-doors, and wandered about the Burg, letting his
eyes stray over the goodly stone houses and their trim gar-
dens, yet noting them little, since the Bride was not there.

At last he came to where there was an open place, straight-
sided, longer than it was wide, with a wall on each side of it,
over which showed the blossomed boughs of pear and cherry
and plum-trees: on either hand before the wall was a row of
great lindens, now showing their first tender green, especially
on their lower twigs, where they were sheltered by the wall.
At the nether end of this place Folk-might saw a grey stone
house, and he went towards it betwixt the lindens, for it
seemed right great, and presently was but a score of paces
from its door, and as yet there was no man, carle or queen,
stirring about it.

It was a long low house with a very steep roof; but belike
the hall was built over some undercroft, for many steps went
up to the door on either hand ; and the doorway was low, with
a straight lintel under its arch. This house, like the House of
the Face, seemed ancient and somewhat strange, and Folk-
might could not choose but take note of it. The front was all
of good ashlar work, but it was carven all over, without heed
being paid to the joints of the stones, into one pidure of a
flowery meadow, with tall trees and bushes in it, and fowl
perched in the trees and running through the grass, and sheep
and kine and oxen and horses feedingdown the meadow; and
over the door at the top of the stair was wrought a great steer
bigger than all the other neat, whose head was turned toward
the sun-rising and uplifted with open mouth, as though he
were lowing aloud. Exceeding fair seemed that house to

267

The House Folk-might, and as though it were the dwelling of some

of the Steer great kindred.

But he had scarce gone over it with his eyes, and was just
about to draw nigher yet to it, when the door at the top of
those steps opened, and a woman came out of the house clad
in a green kirtle and a gown of brazil, with a golden-hilted
sword girt to her side. Folk-might saw at once that it was the
Bride, and drew aback behind one of the trees so that she
might not see him, if she had not already seen him, as it
seemed not that she had; for she stayed but for a moment on
the top of the stair, looking out down the tree-rows, and then
came down the stair and went soberly along the road, passing
so close to Folk-might that he could see the fashion of her
beauty closely, as one looks into the work of some deftest
artificer. Then it came suddenly into his head that he would
follow her and see whither she waswending. "At least," said
he to himself, "if I come not to speech with her, I shall be
nigh unto her, and shall see somewhat of her beauty."

So he came out quietly from behind the tree, and followed
her softly; and he was clad in no garment save his kirtle, and
bare no weapons to clash and jingle, though he had his helm
on his head for lack of a softer hat. He kept her well in sight,
and she went straight onward and looked not back. She went
by the way whereas he had come, till they were in the main
street, wherein as yet was no one afoot; she made her way to
the Bridge, and passed over it into the meadows; but when
she had gone but a few steps, she stayed a little and looked
on the ground, and as shedid so turned a little toward Folk-
might, who had drawn back into the last of the refuges over
the up-stream buttresses. He saw that there was a half-smile
on her face, but he could not tell whether she were glad or
sorry. A light wind was beginning to blow, that stirred her
raiment and raised a lock of hair that had strayed from the
golden fillet round about her head, and she looked most
marvellous fair.

Now she looked along the grass that glittered under the
beams of the newly-risen sun, and noted belike how heavy
268

the dew lay on it; and the grass was high already, for the Folk-might
spring had been hot, and haysel would be early in the Dale, followcth
So she put off her shoes, that were of deerskin and broidered "* c
with golden threads, and turned somewhat from the way,
and hung them up amidst the new green leaves of a hawthorn
bush that stood nearby, and so went thwart the meadow
somewhat eastward straight from that bush, and her feet
shone out like pearls amidst the deep green grass.

Folk-might followed presently, and she stayed not again,
nor turned, nor beheld him ; he recked not if she had, for
then would he have come up with her and hailed her, and he
knew that she was no foolish maiden to start at the sight of a
man who was the friend of her Folk.

So they went their ways till she came to the strand of the
water-meadow brook aforesaid, and she went through the
little ripples of the shallow without staying, and on through
the tall deep grass of the meadow beyond, to where they met
the brook again; for it swept round the meadow in a wide
curve, and turned back toward itself; so it was some half fur-
long over from water to water.

She stood a while on the brink of the brook here, which
was brim-full and nigh running into the grass, because there
was a dam just below the place; and Folk-might drew nigher
to her under cover of the thorn-bushes, and looked at the
place about her and beyond her. The meadow beyond stream
was very fair and flowery, but not right great; for it was
bounded by a grove of ancient chestnut trees, that went on
and on toward the southern cliffs of the Dale: in front of the
chestnut wood stood a broken row of black-thorn bushes,
now growing green and losing their blossom, and he could
see betwixt them that there was a grassy bank running along,
as if there had once been a turf- wall and ditch round about
the chestnut trees. — For indeed this was the old place of
tryst between Gold-mane and the Bride, whereof the tale
hath told before.

The Bride stayed scarce longer than gave him time to note
all this; but he deemed that she was weeping, though he

269

He sccth could not rightly see her face ; for her shoulders heaved, and
her weeping s he hung her face adown and put up her hands to it. But now
she went a little higher up the stream, where the water was
shallower, and waded the stream and went up over the
meadow, still weeping, as he deemed, and went between the
black-thorn bushes, and sat her down on the grassy bank
with her back to the chestnut trees.

Folk-might was ashamed to have seen her weeping, and
was half-minded to turn him back again at once; but love
constrained him, and he said to himself, " Where shall I see
her again privily if 1 pass by this time and place?" So he
waited a little till he deemed she might have mastered the
passion of tears, and then came forth from his bush, and went
down to the water and crossed it, and went quietly over the
meadow straight towards her. But he was not half-way across,
when she lifted up her face from between her hands and be-
held the man coming. She neither started nor rose up; but
straightened herself as she sat, and looked right into Folk-
might's eyes as he drew near, though the tears were not dry
on her cheeks.

Now he stood before her, and said: "Hail to the Daughter
of a mighty House 1 Mayst thou live happy 1 "

She answered: "Hail to thee also, Guest of our Folkl
Hast thou been wandering about our meadows, and hap-
pened on me perchance?"

"Nay," he said; "I saw thee come forth from the House
of the Steer, and I followed thee hither."

She reddened a little, and knit her brow, and said :

"Thou wilt have something to say to me? "

" I have much to say to thee," he said ; " yet it was sweet to
me to behold thee, even if I might not speak with thee."

She looked on him with her deep simple eyes, and neither
. reddened again, nor seemed wroth ; then she said :

"Speak what thou hast in thine heart, and I will hearken
without anger whatsoever it may be; even if thou hast but to
tell me of the passing folly of a mighty man, which in a month
or two he will not remember for sorrow or for joy. Sit here
beside me, and tell me thy thought."
270

So he sat him adown and said: "Yea, I have much to say Shegreeteth
to thee, but it is hard to me to say it. But this I will say: to- him friendly
day and yesterday make the third time I have seen thee. The
first time thou wert happy and calm, and no shadow of trouble
was on thee ; the second time thi ne happy days were waning,
though thou scarce knewest it ; but to-day and yesterday thou
art constrained by the bonds of grief, and wouldest loosen
them if thou mightest."

She said: "What meanest thou? How knowest thou this?
How may a stranger partake in my joy and my sorrow? "

He said: "As tor yesterday, all the people might see thy
grief and know it. But when I beheld thee the first time, I
saw thee that thou wert more fair and lovely than all other
women ; and when I was away from thee, the thought of thee
and thine image were with me, and 1 might not put them
away ; and oft at such and such a time I wondered and said to
myself, what is she doing now? though god wot I was deal-
ing with tangles and troubles and rough deeds enough. But
the second time I beheld thee, when I had looked to have
great joy in the sight of thee, my heart was smitten with a
pang of grief ; for I saw thee hanging on the words and the
looks ofanother man, who was light-minded toward thee,
and that thou wert troubled with the anguish of doubt and
fear. And he knew it not, nor saw it, though I saw it."

Her face grew troubled, and the tearful passion stirred
within her. But she held it aback, and said, as anyone might
have said it :

" How wert thou in the Dale, mighty man? We saw thee
not."

He said: " I came hither hidden in other semblance than
mine own. But meddle not therewith; it availeth nought.
Let me say this, and do thou hearken to it. I saw thee yester-
day in the street, and thou wert as the ghost of thine old
[ladness; although belike thou hast striven with sorrow; for
see thee with a sword by thy side, and we have been told
that thou, O fairest of women, hast given thyself to the
Warrior to be his damsel."

"Yea," she said, " that is sooth."

271

He tellcth He went on : " But the face which thou bearedst yesterday

her of herself against thy will, amidst all the people, that was because thou

hadst seen my sister the Sun-beam for the first time, and

Face-of-god with her, hand clinging to hand, lip longing for

lip, desire unsatisfied, but glad with all hope."

She laid hand upon hand in the lap of her gown, and looked
down, and her voice trembled as she said :

" Doth it avail to talk of this? "

He said: " 1 know not: it may avail; for I am grieved, and
shall be whilst thou art grieved; and it is my wont to strive
with my griefs till I amend them."

She turned to him with kind eyes and said:

" O mighty man, canst thou clear away the tangle which
besetteth the soul of her whose hope hath bewrayed her?
Canst thou make hope grow up in her heart? Friend, I will
tell thee that when I wed, I shall wed for the sake of the
kindred, hoping for no joy therein. Yea, or if by some chance
the desire of man came again into my heart, I should strive
with it to rid myself of it; for I should know of it that it was
but a wasting folly, that should but beguile me, and wound
me, and depart, leaving me empty ofjoy and heedless oflife."

He shook his head and said :" Even so thou deemest now;
but one day it shall be otherwise. Or dost thou love thy sor-
row? I tell thee, as it wears thee and wears thee, thou shalt
hate it, and strive to shake it off."

" Nay, nay," she said ; " I love it not ; for not only it grieveth
me, but also it beateth me down and belittleth me."

"Good is that," said he. <c I know how strong thine heart
is. Now, wilt thou take mine hand, which is verily the hand
of thy friend, and remember what I have told thee of my
grief which cannot be sundered from thine? Shall we not talk
more concerning this? Forsurelyl shall soon see thee again,
and often; since the Warrior, who loveth me belike, leadeth
thee into fellowship with me. Yea, I tell thee, O friend, that
in that fellowship shalt thou find both the seed of hope, and
the sun of desire that shall quicken it"

Therewith he arose and stood before her, and held out to
272

i

her his hand all hardened with the sword-hilt, and she took Shedeemeth
it, and stood up feeing him, and said : W» a friend

"This much will 1 tell thee, O friend; that what I havQ
said to thee this hour, I thought not to have said to any man ;
or to talk with a man of the grief that weareth me, or to suffer
him to see my tears; and marvellous I deem it of thee, for all
thy might, that thou hast drawn this speech from out of me,
and left me neither angry norashamed, in spiteof these tears ;
and thou whom I have known not, though thou knewest me!

"But now it were best that thou depart, andget thee home
to the House of the Face, where 1 was once so frequent; for
I wot that thou hast much to do ; and as thou sayest, it will be
in warfare that 1 shall see thee. Now I thank thee for thy
words and the thought that thou hast had of me, and the pain
which thou hast taken to heal my hurt: I thank thee, I thank
thee, for as grievous as it is to show one's hurts even to a
friend."

He said: "O Bride, I thank thee for hearkening to my
tale ; and one day shall 1 thank thee much more. Mayest thou
fare well in the Field and amidst the Folk! "

Therewith he kissed her hand, and turned away, and went
across the meadow and the stream, glad at heart and blithe
with everyone; for kindnessgrew in him as gladness grew.

CHAPTER XXXVII. OF THE FOLK-MOTE OF
THE DALESMEN,THE SHEPHERD-FOLK, AND
THE WOODLAND CARLES: THE BANNER OF
THE WOLF DISPLAYED.

NOW came the day of the Great Folk-mote,and there
was much thronging from everywhere to the Mote-
stead, but most from Burgstead itself, whereas few of
the Dale-dwellers who had been at the Fair had gone back
home. Albeit someof the Shepherds and of the Dalesmen of
the westernmost Dale had brought light tents, and tilted
themselves in in the night before the Mote down in the
meadows below the Mote-stead. From early morning there
xv.t 273

mote

Men go to had been a stream of folk on the Portway setting westward ;

the Folk- and many came thus early that they might hold converse
with friends and well-wishers; and some that they might
disport them in the woods. Men went in no ordered bands,
as the Burgstead men at least had done on the day of the
Weapon-show, save that a few of them who were arrayed
the bravest gathered about the banners,andwent with them
to the Mote-stead; for all the banners must needs be there.
The Folk-mote was to be hallowed-in three hours before
noon, as all men knew; therefore an hour before that time
were all men of the Dale and the Shepherds assembled that
might be looked for, save the Alderman and the chieftains
with the banner of the Burg,and thesewere not like tocome
many minutes before the Hallowing. Folk were gathered on
the Field in such wise, that the men-at-arms made a great ring
round about the Doom-ring (albeit there were many old men
there, girt with swords that they should never heave up again
in battle), so that without that ring there was nought save
women and children. But when all the other Houses were
assembled, men looked around, and beheld the place of the
Woodlanders that it was empty ; and they marvelled that they
were thus belated. For now all was ready, and a watcher had
gone up to the Tower on the height, and had with him the
great Horn ofWarning, which could be heard past the Mote-
stead and a great way down the Dale: and if he saw foes
coming from the East he should blow one blast; if from the
South, two; if from the West, three; if from the North, four.
So half an hour from the appointed time of Hallowing
rose the rumour that the Alderman was on the road, and
presently they of the women who were on the outside of the
" throng, by drawing nigh to the edge of the sheer rock, could
behold the Banner or the Burg on the Portway, and soon
after could see the wain, done about with green boughs,
wherein sat the chieftains in their glittering war-gear.
Speedily they spread the tidings, and a confused shout went
up into the air; and in a little while the wain stayed on Wild-
lake's Way at the bottom of the steep slope that went up to
274

the Mote-stead, and the banner of the Burg came on proudly Here cometh
up the hill. Soon all men beheld it, and saw that the tall Hall- in the Alder-
face bore it in front of his brother Face-of-god, who came on man
gleaming in war-gear better than most men had seen; which
was indeed of his father's fashioning, and his father's gift to
him that morning.

After Face-of-god came the Alderman, and with him
Folk-might leading the Sun-beam by the hand, and then
Stone-face and the Elder of the Dale-wardens; and then the
six Burg-wardens : as to the other Dale-wardens, they were
in their places on the Field.

So now those who had been standing up turned their feces
toward the Altar of the Gods, and those who had been sit-
ting down sprang to their feet, and the confused rumour of
the throng rose into a clear shout as the chieftains went to
their places, and sat them down on the turf-seats amidst the
Doom-ring facing the Speech-hill and the Altar of the Gods.
Amidmost sat the Alderman, on his right hand Face-of-god,
and out from him Hall-face, and then Stone-face and three
of the Wardens; but on his left hand sat first the two Guests,
then the Elder of the Dale-wardens, and then the other three
Burg- wardens; as for the Banner of the Burg, its staff was
stuck into the earth behind them, and the Banner raised
itself in the morning wind and flapped and rippled over
their heads.

There then they sat, and folk abided, and it still lacked
some minutes of the due time, as the Alderman wotted by
the shadow of the great standing-stone betwixt him and the
Altar. Therewithal came the sound of a great horn from out
of the wood on the north side, and men knew it for the horn
of the Woodland Carles, and were glad; for they could not
think why they should be belated; and now men stood up
a-tiptoe and on other's shoulders to look over the heads of
the women and children to behold their coming; but their
empty place was at the south-west corner of the ring of men.

So presently men beheld them marching toward their
place, cleaving the throng of the women and children, a great
T2 275

Now come company; for besides that they had with them two score
the Wood- more of men under weapons than on the day of the Weapon-
landers show, all their little ones and women and outworn elders
were with them, some on foot, some riding on oxen and
asses. In their forefront went the two signs of the Battle-
shaft and the War-spear. But moreover, in front of all was
borne a great staff with the cloth of a banner wrapped round
about it, and tied up with a hempen yarn that it might not be
seen.

Stark and mighty men they looked; tall and lean, broad-
shouldered, dark-faced. As they came amongst the throng
the voice of their horn died out, and for a few moments they
fared on with no sound save the tramp of their feet; then all
at once the man who bare the hidden banner lifted up one
hand, and straightway they fell to singing, and with that
song they came to their place. And this is some of what they
sang:

The Song O white, white Sun, what things of wonder

of the Wolf Hast thou beheld from thy wall of the sky !

All the Roofs of the Rich and the grief thereunder,
As the fear of the Earl-folk flitteth by!

Thou hast seen the Flame steal forth from the Forest

To slay the slumber of the lands,
As the Dusky Lord whom thou abhorrest

Clomb up to thy Burg unbuilt with hands.

Thou lookest down from thy door the golden,

Nor batest thy wide-shining mirth,
As the ramparts fall, and the roof-trees olden

Lie smouldering low on the burning earth.

When flitteth the half-dark night of summer

From the face of the murder great and grim,
*Tis thou thyself and no new-comer

Shines golden-bright on the deed undim.
276

Art thou our friend, O Day-dawn's Lover?

Full oft thine hand hath sent aslant
Bright beams athwart the Wood-bear's cover,

Where the feeble folk and the nameless haunt.

Thou hast seen us quail, thou hast seen us cower,
Thou hast seen us crouch in the Green Abode,

While for us wert thou slaying slow hour by hour,
And smoothing down the war-rough road.

Yea, the rocks of the Waste were thy Dawns upheaving,
To let the days of the years go through ;

And thy Noons the tangled brake were cleaving
The slow-foot seasons' deed to do.

Then gaze adown on this gift of our giving,
For the WOLF comes wending frith and ford,

And the Folk fares forth from the dead to the living,
For the love of the Lief by the light of the Sword.

Then ceased the song, and the whole band of the Wood-
landers came pouring tumultously into the space allotted
them, like the waters pouring over a river-dam, their white
swords waving aloft in the morning sunlight; and wild and
strange cries rose up from amidst them, with sobbing and
weeping of joy. But soon their troubled front sank back into
ordered ranks, their bright blades stood upright in their
hands before them, and folk looked on their company, and
deemed it the very Terror of battle and Render of the ranks
of war. Right well were they armed ; for though many of
their weapons were ancient and somewhat worn, yet were
they the work of good smiths of old days; and moreover, if
any of them lacked good war-gear of his own, that had the
Alderman and his sons made good to them.

But before the hedge of steel stood the two tall men who
held in their hands the war-tokens of the Battle-shaft: and
the War-spear, and betwixt them stood one who was indeed

277

The Song
of the Wolf

The banner
displayed

High-heart-
ed are men

the tallest man of the whole assembly, who held the great
staff of the hidden banner. And now he reached up hishand,
and plucked at the yarn that bound it, which of set purpose
was but feeble, and tore it off, and then shook the staff aloft
with both hands, and shouted, and lol the Banner of the
Wolf with the Sun-burst behind him, glittering-bright,
new-woven by the women of the kindred, ran out in the
fresh wind, and flapped and rippled before His warriors
there assembled.

Then from all over the Mote-stead arose an exceeding
great shout, and all men waved aloft their weapons; but the
men of Shadowy Vale who were standing amidst the men of
the Face knew not how to demean themselves, and some of
them ran forth into the Field and leapt for joy, tossing their
swords into the air, and catching them by the hilts as they
fell: and amidst it all the Woodlanders now stood silent, un-
moving, as men abiding the word of onset.

As for that brother and sister: the Sun-beam flushed red
all over her face, and pressed her hands to her bosom, and
then the passion of tears over-mastered her, and her breast
heaved, and the tears gushed out of her eyes, arid her body
was shaken with weeping. But Folk-might sat still, looking
straight before him, his eyes glittering, his teeth set, his right
hand clutching hard at the hilts of his sword, which lay naked
across his knees. And the Bride, who stood clad in her be-
gemmed and glittering war-array in the forefront of the
Men of the Steer, nigh unto the seats of the chieftains, be-
held Folk-might, and her face flushed and brightened, and
still she looked upon him. The Alderman's face was as of
one pleased and proud; yet was its joy shadowed as it were
by a cloud of compassion. Face-of-god sat like the very
image of the War-god, and stirred not, nor looked toward
the Sun-beam ; for still the thought of the after-grief of
battle, and the death of friends and folk that loved him, lay
heavy on his heart, for all that it beat wildly at the shouting
of the men.

278

CHAPTER XXXVIII. OF THE GREAT FOLK-
MOTE: ATONEMENTS GIVEN, AND MEN
MADE SACKLESS.

A MIDST the clamour uprose the Alderman; for it was ThcFolk-

/\ clear to all men that the Folk-mote should be holden motchal-
ilat once, and the matters of the War, and the Fellow- lowcd " in
ship, and the choosing of the War-leader, speedily dealt
with. So the Alderman fell to hallowing-in the Folk-mote:
he went up to the Altar of the Gods, and took the Gold-ring
off it, and did it on his arm; then he drew his sword and
waved it toward the four airts, and spake; and the noise and
shouting fell, and there was silence but for him :

" Herewith I hallow-in this Folk- mote of the Men of the
Dale and the Sheepcotes and the Woodland, in the name of
the Warrior and the Earth-god and the Fathers of the kin-
dreds. Now let not the peace of the Mote be broken. Let not
man rise against man, or bear blade or hand, or stick or stone
against any. If any man break the Peace of the Holy Mote,
let him be a man accursed, a wild-beast in the Holy Places;
an outcast from home and hearth, from bed and board, from
mead and acre; not to be holpen with bread, nor flesh, nor
wine; nor flax, nor wool, nor any cloth; nor with sword, nor
shield, nor axe, nor plough-share; nor with horse, nor ox,
nor ass; with no saddle-beast nor draught-beast ; nor with
wain, nor boat, nor way-leading; nor with fire nor water; nor
with any world's wealth. Thus let him who hath cast out man
be cast out by man. Now is hallowed-in the Folk-mote of
the Men of the Dale and the Sheepcotes and the Wood-
lands."

Therewith he waved his sword again toward the four airts,
and went and sat down in his place. But presently he arose
again, and said :

"Now if man hath aught to say against man, and claimeth
boot of any, or would lay guilt on any man's head, let him
come forth and declare it; and the judges shall be named,
and the case shall be tried this afternoon or to-morrow. Yet

279

cometh
forth

Penny- first I shall tell you that I, the Alderman of the Dalesmen,
thumb doomed one Iron-face of the House of the Face to pay a

double fine, for that he drew a sword at the Gate-thing of
Burgstead with the intent to break the peace thereof. Thou,
Green-sleeve, bringforth the peace-breaker's fine, that Iron-
face may lay the same on the Altar/'

Then came forth a man from the men of the Face bearing
a bag, and he brought it to Iron-face, who went up to the
Altar and poured forth weighed gold from the bag thereon,
and said:

"Warden of the Dale, come thou and weigh it! "

"Nay," quoth the Warden, "it needeth not, no man here
doubteth thee, Alderman Iron-face."

A murmur of yeasay went up, and none had a word to say
against the Alderman, but they praised him rather: also men
were eager to hear of the war, and the fellowship, and to be
done with these petty matters. Then the Alderman rose again
and said :

"Hath any man a grief against any other of the Kindreds
of the Dale, or the Sheepcotes, or the Woodlands?"

None answered or stirred; so after he had waited a while,
he said :

" Is there any who hath any guilt to lay against a Stranger,
an Outlander, being such a man as he deems we can come
at?"

Thereat was a stir amongst the Men of the Fleece of the
Shepherds, and their ranks opened, and there came forth
an ill-favoured lean old man, long-nebbed, blear-eyed, and
bent, girt with a rusty old sword, but not otherwise armed.
And all men knew Penny-thumb, who had been ransacked
last autumn. As he came forth, it seemed as if his neighbours
had been trying to hold him back; but a stout, broad-
shouldered man, black-haired and red-bearded, made way
for the old man, and led him out of the throng, and stood by
him; and this man was well armed at all points, and looked
a doughty carle. He stood side by side with Penny-thumb,
right in front of the men of his house, and looked about him
280

at first somewhat uneasily, as though he were ashamed of Folk-might
his fellow; but though many smiled, none laughed aloud; ukcththc
and they forbore, partly because they knew the man to be a 8 uilt ^ him
good man, pardy because of the solemn tide of the Folk-
mote, and partly in sooth because they wished all this to be
over, and were as men who had no time for empty mirth.

Then said the Alderman: "What wouldest thou, Penny-
thumb, and thou, Bristler, son of Brighding?"

Then Penny-thumb began to speak in a high squeaky
voice: " Alderman, and Lord of the Folk!" — But there-
withal Bristler pulled him back, and said:

" I am the man who hath taken this quarrel upon me, and
have sworn upon the Holy Boar to carry this feud through ;
and we deem, Alderman, that if they who slew Rusty and
ransacked Penny-thumb be not known now, yet they soon
maybe/'

As he spake, came forth those three men of the Shepherds
and the two Dalesmen who had sworn with him on the Holy
Boar. Then up stood Folk-might, and came forth into the
field, and said :

"Bristler, son of Brightling, and ye other good men and
true, it is but sooth that the ransackers and the slayer may
soon be known; and here I declare them unto you: I it was
and none other who slew Rusty; and I was the leader of
those who ransacked Penny-thumb, and cowed Harts-bane
of Greentofts. As for the slaying of Rusty, I slew him be-
cause he chased me, and would not forbear, so that I must
either slay or be skin, as hath befallen me erewhile, and
will befall again, methinks. As for the ransacking of Penny-
thumb, I needed the goods that I took, and he needed them
not, since he neither used them, nor gave them away, and,
they being gone, he hath lived no worser than aforetime.
Now I say, that if ye will take the outlawry off me, which, as
I hear, ye laid upon me, not knowing me, then will I handsel
self-doom to thee, Bristler, if thou wilt bear thy grief to
purse, and I will pay thee what thou wilt out of hand; or if
perchance thou wilt call me to Holm, thither will I go, if

281

Bristler's thou and I come unslain out of this war. As to the ransack-
dooming ing and cowing of Harts-bane, I say that I am sackless there-
in, because the man is but a ruffler and a man of violence, and
hath cowed many men of the Dale; and if he gainsay me,
then do I call him to the Holm after this war is over; either
him or any man who will take his place before my sword."

Then he held his peace, and man spake to man, and a
murmur arose, as they said for the more part that it was a
fair and manly offer. But Bristler called his fellows and
Penny-thumb to him, and they spake together; and some-
times Penny-thumb's shrill squeak was heard above the
deep-voiced talk of the others; for he was a man that har-
boured malice. But at last Bristler spake out and said :

"Tall man, we know that thou art a chieftain and of good
will to the men of the Dale and their friends, and that want
drave thee to the ransacking, and need to the manslaying,
and neither the living nor the dead to whom thou art guilty
are to be called good men ; therefore will I bring the matter
to purse, if thou wilt handsel me self-doom."

"Yea, even so let it be," quoth Folk-might; and stepped
forward and took Bristler by the hand, and handselled him
self-doom. Then said Bristler:

" Though Rusty was no good man, and though he fol-
lowed thee to slay thee, yet was he in his right therein, since
he was following up his goodman's gear; therefore shalt
thou pay a full blood-wite for him, that is to say, the worth
of three hundreds in weed-stuff in whatso goods thou wilt.
As for the ransacking of Penny-thumb, he shall deem him-
self well paid if thou give him four hundreds in weed-stuff
for that which thou didst borrow of him."

Then Penny-thumb set up his squeak again, but no man
hearkened to him, and each man said to his neighbour that
it was well doomed of Bristler, and neither too much nor too
little. But Folk-might bade Wood-wont to bring thither to
him that which he had borne to the Mote; and he brought
forth a big sack, and Folk-might emptied it on the earth, and
lo! the silver rings of the slain felons, and they lay in a heap
282

on the green field, and they were the best of silver. Then the Penny-
Elder of the Dale-wardens weighed out from the heap the thumb
blood-wite for Rusty, according to the due measure of the *?*** homc
hundred in weed-stuff, and delivered it unto Bristler. And
Folk-might said:

" Draw nigh now, Penny-thumb, and take what thou wilt
of this gear, which I need not, and grudge not at me hence-
forward.' '

But Penny-thumb was afraid, and abode where he was;
and Bristler laughed, and said: "Take it, goodman, take it;
spare not other men's goods as thou dost thine own."

And Folk-might stood by, smiling faintly: so Penny-
thumb plucked up a heart, and drew nigh trembling, and took
what he durst from that heap ; and all that stood by said that
he had gotten a full double of what had been awarded to him.
Butas for him,hewenthiswaysstraightfrom the Mote-stead,
and made no stay till he had gotten him home, and laid the
silver up in a strong coffer; and thereafter he bewailed him
sorely that he had not taken the double of that which he took,
since none would have said him nay.

When he was gone, the Alderman arose and said :

" Now, since the fines have been paid duly and freely,
according to the dooming of Bristler, take we off the out-
lawry from Folk-might and his fellows, and account them
to be sackless before us."

Then he called for other cases; but no man had aught more
to bring forward against any man, either of the Kindreds or
the Strangers.

283

CHAPTER XXXIX. OF THE GREAT FOLK-
MOTE: MEN TAKE REDE OF THE WAR-
FARING, THE FELLOWSHIP, AND THE WAR-
LEADER. FOLK-MIGHT TELLETH WHENCE
HIS PEOPLE CAME. THE FOLK-MOTE SUN-
DERED.

The chiefs T^ T OW a great silence fell upon the throng, and they

give forth I ^^1 stood as men abiding some new matter. Unto them

J^ J JjJ 1 1 arose the Alderman, and said :

ten of the " " ^ en °f the Dale, and ye Shepherds and Woodlanders;

war it is well known to you that we have foemen in the wood and

beyond it ; and now have we gotten sure tidings, that they will
not abide at home or in the wood, but are minded to fall upon
us at home. Now therefore I will not ask you whether ye will
have peace or war; for with these foemen ye may have peace
no otherwise save by war. But if ye think with me, three
things have ye to determine: first, whether ye will abide your
foes in your own houses, or will go meet them at theirs;next,
whether ye will take to you as fellows in arms a valiant folk
of the children of the Gods, who are foemen to our foemen;
and lastly, what man ye will have to be your War-leader.
Now, I bid all those here assembled, to speak hereof, any
man of them that will, either what they may have conceived
in their own minds, or what their kindred may have put into
their mouths to speak."

Therewith he sat down, and in a little while came forth
old Hall-ward of the House of the Steer, and stood before
the Alderman, and said: "O Alderman, all we say: Since war
is awake we will not tarry, but will go meet our foes while it
is yet time. The valiant men of whom thou tellest shall be our
fellows, were there but three of them. We know no better
War-leader than Face-of-god of the House of the Face. Let
him lead us. M

Therewith he went his ways; and next came forth War-
well, and said: "The House of the Bridge would have Face-
of-god for War-leader, these tall men for fellows, and the
shortest way to meet the foe." And he went back to his place.
284

Next came Fox of Upton, and said: "Time presses, or Morechiefc
much might be spoken. Thus saith the House of the Bull: give their
Let us go meet the foe, and take these valiant strangers for deeming °f
way-leaders, and Face-of-god for War-leaden" And he also * c war
went back again.

Then came forth two men together, an old man and a
young, and the old man spake as soon as he stood still : " The
Men of the Vine bid me say their will: They will not stay at
home to have their houses burned over their heads, them-
selves slain on their own hearths, and their wives haled off to
thralldom. They will take any man for their fellow in arms
who will smite stark strokes on their side. They know Face-
of-god, and were liefer of him for War-leader than an v other,
and they will follow him wheresoever he leadeth. Thus my
kindred biddeth me say, and I hight Fork-beard of Lea. If I
live through this war, I shall have lived through five."

Therewith he went back to his place; but the young man
lifted up his voice and said : "To all this I say yea, and so am
I bidden by the kindred of the Sickle: I am Red-beard of the
Knolls, the son of my father. "And he went to his place
again.

Then came forth Stone-face, and said: "The House of the
Face saith : Lead us through the wood, O Face-of god, thou
War-leader, and ye warriors of the Wolf. I am Stone- face, as
men know, and this word hath been given to me by the kin-
dred." And he took his place again.

Then came forth together the three chiefs of the Shep-
herds, to wit Hound-under-Greenbury,Strongitharm, and
the Hyllier; and Strongitharm spake for all three, and
said :

"The Men of Greenbury, and they of the Fleece and the
Thorn, are of one accord, and bid us say that they are well
pleased to have Face-of-god for War-leader; and that they
will follow him and the warriors of the Wolf to live or die
with them ; and that they are ready to go meet the foe at once,
and will not skulk behind the walls of Greenbury."

Therewith the three went back again to their places.

Then came forth that tall man that bare the Banner of the

285

The Wolf, when he had given the staff into the hands of him who

War-leader stood next. He came and stood over against the seat of the
chosen: the chieftains; and for a while he could say no word, but stood
yeasaid and stru 8S^ n S Wl ^i ^ e strong passion of his joy ; but at last he
also the lifted his hands aloft, and cried out in a loud voice :

onslaught "O war, war! O death! O wounding and grief! O loss of

on the Dusky friends and kindred! let all this be rather than the drawing
Mcn# backofmeetinghandsandthesunderingofyearninghearts!"

and he went back hastily to his place. But from the ranks of
the Woodlanders ran forth a young man, and cried out:

"As is the word of Red-wolf, so is my word, Bears-bane of
Carlstead;and this is the word which our little Folk hath put
into our mouths ; and O ! that our hands may show the mean-
ing of our mouths; for nought else can."

Then indeed went up a great shout, though many forebore
to cry out; for now were they too much moved for words or
sounds. And in special was Face-of-god moved ; and he scarce
knew which way to look, lest he should break out into sobs
and weeping; for of late he had been much among the Wood-
landers, and loved them much.

Then all the noise and clamour fell, and it was to men as if
they who had come thither a folk, had now become an host of
war.

But once again the Alderman rose up and spake:
"Now have ye yeasaid three things: That we take Face-
of-god of the House of the Face for our War-leader ;that we
fare under weapons at once against them who would murder
us; and that we take the valiant Folk of the Wolf for our
fellows in arms.'*

Therewith he stayed his speech, and this time the shout
arose clear and most mighty, with the tossing up of swords
and the clashing of weapons on shields.

Then he said: "Now, if any man will speak, here is the

War-leader, and here is the chief of our new friends, to

answer to whatso any of the kindred would have answered."

Thereon came forth the Fiddle from amongst the Men of

the Sickle, and drew somewhat nigh to the Alderman, and

286

said : c< Alderman, we would ask of the War-leader if he hath Folk-might
devised the manner of our assembling, and the way of our is asked con-
war-faring, and the dayof our hosting. More than this I will c ** nl,| 8
not ask ofhim, because we wot that in so great an assembly ZTu^k^?! 1
it may be that the foe may have some spy of whom we wot
not ; and though this be not likely, yet some folk may babble ;
therefore it is best for the wise to be wise everywhere and
always. Therefore my rede it is, that no man ask any more
concerning this, but let it lie with the War-leader to bring us
face to face with the foe as speedily as he may."

All men said that this was well counselled. But Face-of-
god arose and said : " Ye Men of the Dale, ye Shepherds and
Woodlanders, meseemeth the Fiddle hath spoken wisely.
Now therefore I answer him and say, that I have so ordered
everything since the Gate-thing was holden at Burgstead,
that we may come face to face with the foemen by the shortest
of roads. Every man shall be duly summoned to the Host-
ing, and if any man fail, let it be accounted a shame to him
for ever."

A great shout followed on his words, and he sat down
again. But Fox of Upton came forth and said :

" O Alderman, we have yeasaid the fellowship of the
valiant men who have come to us from out of the waste; but
this we have done, not because we have known them, other-
wise than by what our kinsman Face-of-god hath told us
concerning them, but because we have seen clearly that they
will be of much avail to us in our warfare. Now, therefore,
if the tall chieftain who sitteth beside thee were to do us to
wit what he is, and whence he and his are come, it were well,
and fain were we thereof; but if he listeth not to tell us, that
also shall be well."

Then arose Folk-might in his place; but or ever he could
open his mouth to speak, the tall Red-wolf strode forward
bearing with him the Banner of the Wolf and the Sun-burst,
and came and stood beside him; and the wind ran through
the folds of the banner, and rippled it out above the heads of
those twain. Then Folk-might spake and said:

287

Folk-might "O Men of the Dale and the Sheepcotes, I will doas yebidmedo;

^J°w And fain were ye of the story if every deal ye knew.

But long, long were its telling, were 1 to tell it all :
Let it bide tillthe Cup of Deliverance ye drink from hall to hall.

his kindred
came to those
mountains

" Like you we be of the kindreds, of the Sons of the Gods we come,

M idst the Mid-earth's mighty Woodland of old we had our home ;

But of older time we abided 'neath the mountains of the Earth,

O'er which the Sun ariseth to waken woe and mirth.

Great were we then and many; but the long days wore us thin,

And war, wherein the winner hath weary work to win.

And the woodland wall behind us e'en like ourselves was worn,

And the tramp of the hosts of the foemen adown its glades was

borne
On the wind that bent our wheat-fields. So in the morn we rose,
And left behind the stubble and the autumn-fruited close,
And went our ways to the westward, nor turned aback to see
The glare of our burning houses rise over brake and tree.
But the foe was fierce and speedy, nor long they tarried there,
And through the woods of battle our laden wains must fare;
And the Sons of the Wolf were minished, and the maids of the

Wolf waxed few,
As amidst the victory-singing we fared the wild-wood through.

" So saith the ancient story, that west and west we went,
And many a day of battle we had in brake, on bent;
Whilst here a while we tarried, and there we hastened on,
And still the battle-harvest from many a folk we won.

"Of the tale of the days who wotteth? Of the years what man can

tell,
While the Sons of the Wolf were wandering, and knew not where

to dwell?
But at last we clomb the mountains, and mickle was our toil,
As high the spear-wood clambered of the drivers of the spoil;
And tangled were the passes and the beacons flared behind,
And the horns of gathering onset came up upon the wind.
288

So saith the ancient story, that we stood in a mountain-cleft, Now Red-
Where the ways and the valleys sundered to the right hand wolf singcth

and the left
There in the place of sundering all woeftd was the rede ;
We knew no land before us, and behind was heavy need.
As the sword cleaves through the by rny, so there the mountain

flank
Cleft through the God-kin's people; and ne'er again we drank
The wine of war together, or feasted side by side
In the Feast-hall of the Warrior on the fruit of the battle-tide.
For there we turned and sundered; unto the North we went
And up along the waters, and the clattering stony bent ;
And unto the South and the Sheepcotes down went our sister's

sons;
And O for the years passed over since we saw those valiant ones ! "

He ceased, and laid his right hand on the banner-staff a
little below the left hand of Red-wolf; and men were so keen
to hear each word that he spake, that there was no cry nor
sound of voices when he had done, only the sound of the
rippling banner of the Wolf over the heads of those twain.
The Sun-beam bowed her head now, and wept silently. But
the Bride, she had drawn her sword, and held it upright in
her hand before her, and the sun smote fire from out of it.

Then it was but a little while before Red-wolf lifted up
his voice, and sang:

" Hearken a wonder, O Folk of the Field,
How they that did sunder stand shield beside shield!

Lo! the old wont and manner by fearless folk made,
On the Bole of the Banner the brothers' hands laid.

Lo! here the token of what hath betid!

Grown whole is the broken, found that which was hid.

Now one way we follow whatever shall befall;
As seeketh the swallow his yesteryear's hall.
xv.u 289

How the Seldom folk fewer to fight-stead hath fared ;

Sons of the Ne'er have men truer the battle-reed bared.

Wolf came to

Silverdale Grey locks now I cany, and old am I grown,

Nor looked I to tarry to meet with mine own.

For we who remember the deeds of old days
Were nought but the ember of battle ablaze.

For what man might aid us? what deed and what day
Should come where Weird laid us aloof from the way?

What man save that other of Twain rent apart,
Our war-friend, our Brother, the piece of our heart.

Then hearken the wonder how shield beside shield
The twain that did sunder wend down to the Field I "

Now when he had made an end, men could no longer
forebear the shout; and it went up into the heavens, and was
borne by the west-wind down the Dale to the ears of the
stay-at-home women and men unmeet to go abroad, and it
quickened their blood and the spirits within them as they
heard it, and they smiled and were fain; for they knew that
their kinsfolk were glad.

But when there was quiet on the Mote-field again, Folk-
might spake again and said :

"It is sooth that my Brother sayeth,and that now again we wend 3
All the Sons of the Wolf together, till the trouble hath an end.
But as for that tale of the Ancients, it saith that we who went
To the northward, climbed and stumbled o'er many a stony bent.
Till we happed on that isle of the waste-land, and the grass of

Shadowy Vale,
Where we dwelt till we throve a little, and felt our might avail.
Then we fared abroad from the shadow and the little-lighted hold
And the increase fell to the valiant, and the spoil to the battle-bold
And never a man gainsaid us with the weapons in our hands ;
And in Silverdale the happy we gat us life and lands.
290

<c So wore the years o'er-wealthy; and meseemeth that ye know Offerings to
How we sowed and reaped destruction, and the Day of the the Gods

overthrow:
How we leaned on the staff we had broken, and put our lives in

the hand
Of those whom we had vanquished and the feeble of the land;
And these were the stone of stumbling, and the burden not to be

borne,
When the battle-blast fell on us and our day was over-worn.
Thus then did our wealth bewray us, and left us wise and sad ;
And to you, bold men, it falleth once more to make us glad,
If so your hearts are bidding, and ye deem the deed of worth.
Such were we; what we shall be, 'tis yours to say henceforth."

He said furthermore: "How great we have been I have
told you already; and ye shall see for yourselves how little
we be now. Is it enough, and will ye have us for friends and
brothers? How say ye? "

They answered with shout upon shout, so that all the
place and the wild-wood round about was full of the voice
of their crying; but when the clamour fell, then spake the
Alderman and said :

"Friend, and chieftain of the Wolf, thou mayst hear by
this shouting of the people that we have no mind to naysay
our yeasay. And know that it is not our use and manner to
seek the strong for friends, and to thrust aside the weak ;
but rather to choose for our friends them who are of like
mind to us, men in whom we put our trust. From henceforth
then there is brotherhood between us; we are yours, and ye
are ours; and let this endure for ever! "

Then were all men full of joy ; and now at last the battle
seemed at hand, and the peace beyond the battle.

Then men brought the hallowed beasts all garlanded with
flowers into the Doom-ring, and there were they slain and
offered up unto the Gods, to wit the Warrior, the Earth-god,
and the Fathers; and thereafter was solemn feast holden on
the Field of the Folk-mote, and all men were fain and merry.
u2 291

The Wood- Nevertheless, not all men abode there the feast through ; for
landers abide or ever the afternoon was well worn, were many men wend-
fke Hosting ing along the Portway eastward toward the Upper Dale,

in the Dale t • i_ • * j • • • i_ « . i •

each man in his war-gear and with a scrip hung about him ;
and these were they who were bound for the trysting-place
and the journey over the waste.

So the Folk-mote was sundered ; and men went to their
houses, and there abode in peace the time of their summon-
ing; since they wotted well that the Hosting was afoot.

But as for the Woodlanders, who were at the Mote-stead
with all their folk, women, children, and old men, they went
not back again to Carlstead; but prayed the neighbours of
the Middle Dale to suffer them to abide there awhile, which
they yeasaid with a good will. So the Woodlanders tilted
themselves in, the more part of them, down in the meadows
below the Mote-stead, along either sideof Wildlake's Way;
but their ancient folk, and some of the women and children,
die neighbours would have into their houses, and the rest
they furnished with victual and all that they needed without
price, looking upon them as their very guests. For indeed
they deemed that they could see that these men would never
return to Carlstead, but would abide with the Men of the
Wolf in Silverdale, once it were won. And this they deemed
but meet and right, yet were they sorry thereof; for the
Woodlanders were well beloved of all the Dalesmen; and
now that they had gotten to know that they were come of so
noble a kindred, they were better beloved yet, and more
looked upon.

CHAP. XL. OF THE HOSTING IN SHADOWY
VALE.

IT was on the evening of the fourth day after the Folk-
mote that there came through the Waste to the rocky
edge of Shadowy Vale a band of some fifteen score of men-
at-arms, and with them a multitude of women and children
and old men, some afoot, some ridingon asses and bullocks;
292

and with them were sumpter assesand neat laden with house- The Wood-
hold goods, and a few goats and kine. And this was the whole landers come
folk of the Woodlanders come to the Hosting in Shadowy ^ Shadowy
Vale and the Home of the Children of the Wolf. Their leaders
of the way were Wood-father and Wood- wont and two other
carles of Shadowy Vale; and Red-wolf the tall, and Bears-
bane and War-grove were the captains and chieftains of their
company.

Thus then they entered into the narrow pass aforesaid,
which was the ingate to the Vale from the Waste, and little
by little its dimness swallowed up their long line. As they
went by the place where the lowering of the rock- wall gave a
glimpse of the valley, they looked down into it as Face-of-
god had done, but much change was there in little time. There
was the black wall of crags on the other side stretching down
to the ghyll of the great Force; there ran the deep green
waters of the Shivering Flood; but the grass which Face-of-
god had seen naked of everything but a few kine, thereon
now the tents of men stood thick. Their hearts swelled
within them as they beheld it, but they forebore the shout
and the cry till they should be well within the Vale, and so
went down silently into the darkness. But as their eyes
caught that dim image of the Wolf on the wall of the pass,
man pointed it out to man, and not a few turned and kissed
it hurriedly ; and to them it seemed that many a kiss had been
laid on that dear token since thedaysof old, and that the hard
stone had been worn away by the fervent lips of men, and that
the air of the mirk place yet quivered with the vows sworn
over the sword-blade.

But down through the dark they went, and so came on to
the stony scree at the end of the pass and into the Vale; and
the whole Folk save the three chieftains flowed oyer it and
stood about itdown on the level grass of the Vale. But those
three stood yet on the top of the scree, bearing the war-signs
of the Shaft and the Spear, and betwixt them the banner ot
the Wolf and the Sun-burst newly displayed to the winds
of Shadowy Vale.

*93

them

Folk-might Up and down the Vale they looked, and saw before the
greeted* tents of men the old familiar banners of Burgdale rising and

falling in the evening wind. But amidst of the Doom-ring
was pitched a great banner, whereon was done the image of
the Wolf with red gaping jaws on a field of green ; and about
him stood other banners, to wit, The Silver Arm on a red
field, the Red Hand on a white field, and on green fields both,
the Golden Bushel and the Ragged Sword.

All about the plain shone glittering war-gear of men as
they moved hither and thither, and a stream of folk began at
once to draw toward the scree to look on those new-comers;
and amidst the helmed Burgdalers and the white-coated
Shepherds went the tall men of the Wolf, bare-headed and
unarmed save for their swords, mingled with the fair strong
womenof the kindred, treading barefoot the soft grass of their
own Vale.

Presently there was a great throng gathered round about
the Woodlanders, and each man as he joined it waved hand
or weapon toward them, and the joy of their welcome sent
a confused clamour through the air. Then forth from the
throng stepped Folk-might, unarmed save his sword, and
behind him was Face-of-god, in his war-gear save his helm,
hand in hand with the Sun-beam, who was clad in her goodly
flowered green kirtle, her feet naked like her sisters of the
kindred.

Then Folk-might cried aloud: "A full and free greeting to
our brothers 1 Well be ye, O Sons of our Ancient FathersI
An d to-day are ye the dearer to us because we see that ye have
brought us a gift, to wit, your wives and children, and your
grandsires unmeet for war. By this token we see how great is
your trust in us, and that it is your meaning never to sunder
from us again. O well be ye ; well be ye ! "

Then spake Red-wolf, and said: " Ye Sons of the Wolf,
who parted from usof old time in that cleft of the mountains,
it is our very selves that we give unto you; and these are a
part of ourselves ; how then should we leave them behind us ?
Bear witness, O men of Burgdale and the Sheepcotes, that we
294

to the feast

have become one Folk with the men of Shadowy Vale, never The
to be sun dered again 1 ' ' Sun-beam

Then all that multitude shouted with a loud voice; and ^^^
when the shout had died away, Folk-might spake again :

" O Warriors of the Sundering, here shall your wives and
children abide, while we go a little journey to rejoice our
hearts with the hard handplay, and to take to us that which
we have missed: and to-morrow morn is appointed for this
same journey, unless ye be over foot-weary with the ways of
the Waste."

Red-wolf smiled as he answered: "This ye say in jest,
brother; for ve may see that our day's journey hath not been
over-much tor our old men ; how then should it weary those
who may yet bear the sword? We are ready for the road and
eager for the handplay."

"This is well," said Folk-might, "and what was to be
looked for. Therefore, brother, do ye and your counsel-
mates come straightway to the Hall of the Wolf; wherein,
after ye have eaten and drunken, shall we take counsel with
our brethren of Burgdale and the Sheepcotes, so that all may
be ordered for battle! "

Said Red-wolf: "Good is that, if we must needs abide till
to-morrow; for verily we came not hither to eat and drink
and rest our bodies; but it must be as ve will have it."

Then the Sun-beam left the hand ot Face-of-god and came
forward, and held out both her palms to the Woodland-folk,
and spake in a voice that was heard afar, though it were a
woman's, so clear and sweet it was; and she said:

" O Warriors of the Sundering, ye who be not needed in
the Hall, and ye our sisters with your little ones and your
fathers, come now to us and down to the tents which we have
arrayed for you, and there think for a little that we are all at
our very home that we long for and have yet to win, and be
ye merry with us and make us merry."

Therewith she stepped forward daintily and entered into
their throng, and took an old man of the Woodlandersby the
hand, and kissed his cheek and led him away, and the coming

295

The Feast in rest seemed sweet to him. And then came other women of the

Shadowy Vale, kind and fair and smiling, and led away, some an old

Valc mother of the Woodlanders, some a young wife, some a pair

of lads; and not a few forsooth kissed and embraced the stark

warriors, and went away with them toward the tents, which

stood along the side of the Shivering Flood where it was at its

auietest; for there was the grass the softest and most abun-
an t. There on the green grass were tables arrayed, and lamps
were hung above them on spears, to be litten when the day-
light should fail. And the best of the victual which the Vale
could give was spread on the boards, along with wine and
dainties, bought in Silverdale, or on the edges of the West-
land with sword-strokes and arrow-flight.

There then they feasted and were merry; and the Sun-
beam and Bow-may and the other women of the Vale served
them at table, and were very blithe with them, caressing them
with soft words, and with clipping and kissing, as folk who
were grown exceeding dear to them;sothat that eve of battle
was softer and sweeter to them than any hour of their life.
With these feasters were God-swain and Spear-fist of the
delivered thralls of Silverdale as glad as glad might be; but
Wolf-stone their eldest was gone with Dallach to the Council
in the Hall.

The men of Burgdale and the Shepherds feasted other-
where in all content, nor lacked folk of the Vale to serve
them. Amongst the men of the Face were the ten delivered
thralls who had heart to meet their masters in arms: seven of
them were of Rosedale and three of Silverdale.

The Bride was with her kindred of the Steer, with whom
were many men of Shadowy Vale, and she served her friends
and fellows clad in her war-gear, save helm and hauberk,
bearing herself as one who is serving dear guests. And men
equalled her for her beauty to the fiods of the High Place
and the Choosers of the Slain; and they who had not beheld
her before marvelled at her, and her loveliness held all men's
hearts in a net of desire, so that they forebore their meat to
gaze upon her; and if perchance her hand touched some
young man, or her cheek or sweet-breathed mou th came nigh
296

to his face, he became bewildered and wist not where he was, The Bride
nor what to do. Yet was she as lowly and simple of speech and by Staff-stone
demeanour as if she were a gooseherd of fourteen winters.

In the Hall was a goodly company, and all the leaders of
the Folk were therein, and Folk-might and the War-leader
sitting in the midst of those stone seats on the dais. There
then they agreed on the whole ordering of the battle and the
wending ofthe host, as shall be told later on; and this matter
was long a-doing, and when it was done, men went to their
places to sleep, for the night was well worn.

But when men had departed and all was still, Folk-might,
light-clad and without a weapon, left the Hall and walked
briskly toward the nether end of the Vale. He passed by all
the tents, the last whereof were of the House of the Steer,
and came to a place where was a great rock rising straight up
from the plain like sheaves of black staves standing close
together; and it was called Staff-stone, and tales ofthe elves
had been told concerning it, so that Stone-face had beheld it
gladly the day before.

The moon was just shining into Shadowy Vale, and the
grass was bright wheresoever the shadows of the high cliffs
were not, and the face of Staff-stone shone bright grey as Folk-
might came within sight of it, and he beheld someone sitting
at the base of the rock, and as he drew nigher he saw that it
was a woman, and knew her for the Bride; for he had prayed
her to abide him there that night, because it was nigh to the
tents ofthe House ofthe Steer; and his heart was glad as he
drew nigh to her.

She sat quietly on a fragment ofthe black rock, clad as she
had been all day, in her glittering kirde, but without hauberk
or helm, a wreath of wind-flowers about her head, her feet
crossed over each other, her hands laid palm uppermost in
her lap. She moved not as he drew nigh, but said in a gende
voice when he was close to her:

" Chief of the Wolf, great warrior, thou wouldest speak
with me; and good it is that friends should talk together on
the eve of battle, when they may never meet alive again."

He said: " My talk shall not be long; for thou and I both

297

Folk-might must sleep to-night, since there is work to hand to-morrow,
asketh a boon Now since, as thou sayest, O fairest of women, we may never

meet again alive, I ask thee now at this hour, when we both
live and are near to one another, to suffer me to speak to thee
of my love of thee and desire for thee. Surely thou, who art
the sweetest of all things the Gods and the kindreds have
made, wilt not gainsay me this? "

She said very sweetly, yet smiling: "Brother of my
father's sons, how can I gainsay thee thy speech? Nay, hast
thou not said it? What more canst thou add to it that will
have fresh meaning to mine ears?"

He said: "Thou sayest sooth: might I then but kiss thine
hand?"

She said, no longer smiling: "Yea surely, even so may all
men do who can be called my friends — and thou art much
my friend."

He took her hand and kissed it, and held it thereafter; nor
did she draw it away. The moon shone brightly on them;
but by its light he could not see if she reddened, but he
deemed that her face was troubled. Then he said: "It were
better for me if I might kiss thy face, and take thee in mine

arms."

Then said she: "This only shall a man do with me when
I long to do the like with him. And since thou art so much
my friend, I will tell thee that as for this longing, I have it
not. Bethink thee what a little while it is since the lack of
another man's love grieved me sorely."

"The time is short," said Folk-might, "if we tell up the
hours thereof; but in that short space have a many things
betid."

She said: "Dost thou know, canst thou guess, how sorely
ashamed I went amongst my people? I durst look no man in
the face for the aching of mine heart, which methought all
might see through my face."

"I knew it well," he said; "yet of me wert thou not
ashamed but a little while ago, when thou didst tell me of
thy grief."
298

She said: "True it is; and thou wcrt kind to me. Thou Hckisscth
didst become a dear friend to me, methought.' * & embraceth

" And wilt thou hurt a dear friend? " said he.

" O no," she said, " if I might do otherwise. Yet how if I
might not choose? Shall there be no forgiveness for me
then?"

He answered nothing; and still he held her hand that
strove not to be gone from his, and she cast down her eyes.
Then he spake in a while :

" My friend, I have been thinking of thee and of me ; and
now hearken : if thou wilt declare that thou feelest no sweet-
ness embracing thine heart when I say that I desire thee
sorely, as now I say it; or when I kiss thine hand, as now I
kiss it; or when I pray thee to suffer me to cast mine arms
about thee and kiss thy face, as now I pray it : if thou wilt say
this, then will I take thee by the hand straightway, and lead
thee to the tents of the House of the Steer, and say farewell
to thee till the battle is over. Canst thou say this out of the
truth of thine heart ?"

She said: "What then if I cannot say this word? What
then?"

But he answered nothing; and she sat still a little while,
and then arose and stood before him, looking him in the
eyes, and said:

"I cannot say it/'

Then he caught her in his arms and strained her to him,
and then kissed her lips and her face again and again, and
she strove not with him. But at last she said:

"Yet after all this shalt thou lead me back to my folk
straightway; and when the battle is done, if both we are
living, then shall we speak more thereof."

So he took her hand and led heron toward the tents of the
Steer, and for a while he spake nought; for he doubted him-
self, what he should say ; but at last he spake:

" Now is this better for me than if it had not been, whether
I live or whether I die. Yet thou hast not said that thou
lovest me and desirest me."

299

They say " Wilt thou compel me? " she said. c< To-night I may not

farewell say it. Who shall say what words my lips shall fashion when
we stand together victorious in Silverdale; then indeed may
the time seem long from now."

He said: "Yea, true is that; yet once again I say that so
measured long and long is the time since first I saw thee in
Burgdale before thou knewest me. Yet now I will not bicker
with thee, for be sure that I am glad at heart. And lo you!
our feet have brought us to the tents of thy people. All good
go with thee!"

c< And with thee, sweet friend," she said.Then she lingered
a little, turning her head toward the tents, and then turned
her face toward him and laid her hand on his neck, and drew
his head adown to her and kissed his cheek, and therewith
swiftly and lightly departed from him.

Now the night wore and the morning came; and Face-of-
god was abroad very early in the morning, as his custom was;
and he washed the night from off him in the Carles' Bath of
the Shivering Flood, and then went round through the en-
campment of the host, and saw none stirring save here and
there the last watchmen of the night. He spake with one or
two of these, and then went up to the head of the Vale,
where was the pass that led to Silverdale; and there he saw
the watch, and spake with them, and they told him that none
had as yet come forth from the pass, and he bade them to
blow the horn of warning to rouse up the Host as soon as the
messengers came thence. For forerunners had been sent up
the pass, and had been set to hold watch at divers places
therein to pass on the word from place to place.

Thence went Face-of-god back toward the Hall; but
when he was yet some way from it, he saw a slender glitter-
ing warrior come forth from the door thereof, who stood for
a moment looking round about, and then came lightly and
swiftly toward him; and lo! it was the Sun-beam, with a long
hauberk over her kirtle falling below her knees, a helm on
her head and plated shoes on her feet. She came up to him,
and laid her hand to his cheek and the golden locks of his
head (for he was bare-headed), and said to him, smiling:
300

" Gold-mane ! thou badest me bear arms, and Folk-might The
also constrained me thereto. Lo thou! " Sun-beam

Said Face-of-god: <c Folk-might is wise then, even as I cladln
am; and forsooth as thou art. For bethink thee if the bow war "8 car
drawn at a venture should speed the eyeless shaft against thy
breast, and send me forth a wanderer from my Folk! For
how could I bear the sight of the fair Dale, and no hope to
see thee again therein? "

She said: "The heart is light within me to-day. Deemest
thou that this is strange? Or dost thou call to mind that which
thou spakest the other day, that it was of no avail to stand
in the Doom-ring of the Folk and bear witness against our-
selves? This will I not. This is no light-mindedness that
thou beholdest in me, but the valiancy that the Fathers have
set in mine heart. Deem not, O Gold-mane, fear not, that
we shall die before they dight the bride-bed for us."

He would have kissed her mouth, but she put him away
with her hand, and doffed her helm and laid it on the grass,
and said:

"This is not the last time that thou shalt kiss me, Gold-
mane, my dear; and yet I long for it as if it were, so high as
the Fathers have raised me up this morn above fear and sad-

ness."

He said nought, but drew her to him, and wonder so
moved him, that he looked long and closely at her face be-
fore he kissed her; and forsooth he could find no blemish in
it: it was as if it were but new come from the smithy of the
Gods, and exceeding longing took hold of him. But even as
their lips met, from the head of the Vale came the voice of
the great horn; and it was answered straightway by the
watchers all down the tents; and presently arose the shouts
of men and the clash of weapons as folk armed themselves,
and laughter therewith, for most men were battle-merry,
and the cries of women shrilly-clear as they hastened about,
busy over the morning meal before the departure of the
Host. But Face-of-god said softly, still caressing the Sun-
beam, and she him :

"Thus then we depart from this Valley of the Shadows,

301

The Host but as thou saidst when first we met therein, there shall be
gathereth for no sundering of thee and me, but thou shalt go down with

departure mc to the battle."

And he led her by the hand into the Hall of the Wolf,and
there they ate a morsel, and thereafter Face-of-god tarried
not, but busied himself along with Folk-might find the other
chieftains in arraying the Host for departure.

CHAP. XLI. THE HOST DEPARTETH FROM
SHADOWY VALE: THE FIRST DAY'S JOURNEY.

IT was about three hours before noon that the Host began
to enter into the pass out of Shadowy Vale by the river-
side; and the women and children, and men unfight-
worthy, stood on the higher ground at the foot of the cliffe
to see the Host wend on the way. Of these a many were of
the Woodlanders, who were now one folk with them of
Shadowy Vale. And all these had chosen to abide tidings in
the Vale, deeming that there was little danger therein, since
that last slaughter which Folk-might had made of the Dusky
Men; albeit Face-of-god had offered to send them all to
Burgstead with two score and ten men-at-arms to guard
them by the way and to eke out the warders of the Burg.

Now the fighting-men of Shadowy Vale were two long
hundreds lacking nve; of whom two score and ten were
women, and three score and ten lads under twenty winters;
but the women, though you might scarce see fairer of face
and body, were doughty in arms, all good shooters in the
bow; and the swains were eager and light-foot, cragsmen of
the best, wont to scaling the cliffs of the Vale in search of the
nests of gerfalcons and such-like fowl, and swimming the
strong streams of the Shivering Flood; tough bodies and
wiry, stronger than most grown men, and as fearless as the
best.

The order of the Departure of the Host was this:
The Woodlanders went first into the pass, and with them
were two score of the ripe Warriors of the Wolf. Then came
302

of the kindreds of Burgdale, the Men of the Steer, the The order of
Bridge, and the Bull; then the Men of the Vine and the their fering
Sickle; then the Shepherd-folk; and lastly, the Men of the
Face led by Stone-face and Hall-face. With these went
another two score of the dwellers in Shadowy Vale, and the
rest were scattered up and down the bands of the Host to
guide them into the best paths and to make the way easier to
them. Face-of-god was sundered from his kindred, and went
along with Folk-might in the forefront of the Host, while
his father the Alderman went as a simple man-at-arms with
his. House in the rearward. The Sun-beam followed her
brother and Face-of-god amidst the Warriors of the Wolf,
and with her were Bow-may clad in the Alderman's gift, and
Wood-father and his children. Bow-may had caused her to
doff her hauberk for that day, whereon they looked to fall
in with no foeman. As for the Bride, she went with her kin-
dred in all her war-gear; and the morning sun shone in the
gems of her apparel, and her jewelled feet fell like flowers
upon the deep grass of the upper Vale, and shone strange
and bright amongst the black stones of the pass. She bore a
quiver at her back and a shining yew bow in her hand, and
went amongst the bowmen, for she was a very deft archer.

So fared they into the pass, leaving peace behind them,
with all their banners displayed, and the banner of the Red-
mouthed Wolf went with the Wolf and the Sun-burst in the
forefront of their battle next after the two captains.

As for their road, the grassy space between the rock-wall
and the water was wide and smooth at first, and the cliffs rose
up like bundles of spear-shafts high and clear from the green
grass with no confused litter of fallen stones; so that the men
strode on briskly, their hearts high-raised and full of hope.
And as they went, the sweetness of song stirred in their
souls, and at last Bow-may fell to singing in a loud clear
voice, and her cousin Wood-wise answered her, and all the
warriors of the Wolf who were in their band fell into the
song at the ending, and the sound of their melody went
down the water and reached the ears of those that were

3°3

The Song of entering the pass, and of those who were abiding till the
the Sword wa y should be clear of them : and this is some of what they

Unsheathed 8ang .

BOW-MAY SINGETH:
Hear ye never a voice come crying

Out from the waste where the winds fere wide?
" Sons of the Wolf, the days are dying,

And where in the clefts of the rocks do ye hide?

<c Into your hands hath the Sword been given,
Hard are the palms with the kiss of the hilt;
Through the trackless waste hath the road been riven
For the blade to seek to the heart of the guilt.

c< And yet ye bide and yet ye tarry;

Dear deem ye the sleep 'twixt hearth and board,
And sweet the maiden mouths ye marry,

And bright the blade of the bloodless sword."

WOOD-WISE SINGETH:
Yea, here we dwell in the arms of our Mother

The Shadowy Queen, and the hope of the Waste;
Here first we came, when never another

Adown the rocky stair made haste.

Far is the foe, and no sword beholdeth

What deed we work and whither we wend;

Dear are the days, and the Year enfoldeth
The love of our life from end to end.

Voice of our Fathers, why will ye move us,
And call up the sun our swords to behold?

Why will ye cry on the foeman to prove us?
Why will ye stir up the heart of the bold?

BOW-MAY SINGETH :

Purblind am I, the voice of the chiding;

Then tell me what is the thing ye bear?
What is the gift that your hands are hiding,

The gold-adorned, the dread and dear?

304

WOOD-WISE SINGETH : They enter

Dark in the sheath lies the Anvil's Brother, into the Paw

Hid is the hammered Death of Men.
Would ye look on the gift of the green-clad Mother?

How then shall ye ask for a gift again?

THE WARRIORS SING:
Show we the Sunlight the Gift of the Mother,

As foot follows loot to the foe man's den!
Gleam Sun, breathe Wind, on the Anvil's Brother,

For bare is the hammered Death of Men.

Therewith they shook their naked swords in the air, and
fared on eagerly, and as swiftly as the pass would have them
fere. But so it was, that when the rearward of the Host was
entering the first of the pass, and was going on the wide
smooth sward, the vanward was gotten to where there was
but a narrow space clear betwixt water and cliff; for other-
where wa$ a litter of great rocks and small, hard to be threaded
even by those who knew the passes well; so that men had to
tread along the very verge of the Shivering Flood, and wary
must they be, for the water ran swift and deep betwixt banks
of sheer rock half a fathom below their very foot-soles, which
had but bare space to go on the narrow way. So it held on for
a while, and then got safer, and there was more space for
going betwixt cliff and flood; albeit it was toilsome enough,
since for some way yet there was a drift of stones to cumber
their feet, some big and some little, and some very big. After
a while the way grew better, though here and there, where
the cliffs lowered, were wide screes of loose stones that they
must needs climb up and down. Thereafter for a space was
there an end of the stony cumber, but the way betwixt the
river and the cliffs narrowed again, and the black crags grew
higher, and at last so exceeding high, and the way so narrow,
that the sky overhead was to them as though they were at
the bottom of a well, and men deemed that thence they could
see the stars at noontide. For some time withal had the way
been mounting up and up, though the cliffs grew higher over
it; till at last they were but going on a narrow shelf, the
xv.x 305

The toil- Shivering Flood swirling and rattling far below them be-
some and twixt sheer rock-walls grown exceeding high; and above
perilous path th cm th c c liflFs going up towards the heavens as black as a
moonless starless night of winter. And as the flood thun-
dered below, so above them roared the ceaseless thunder of
the wind of the pass, that blew exceeding fierce down that
strait place ; so that the skirts of their garments were wrapped
about their knees by it, and their feet were well-nigh stayed
at whiles as they breasted the push thereof.

But as they mounted higher and higher yet, the noise of
the waters swelled into a huge roar that drowned the bellow-
ing of the prisoned wind, and down the pass came drifting a
fine rain that fell not from the sky, for between the clouds of
that drift could folk see the heavens bright and blue above
them. This rain was but the spray of the great force up to
whose steps they were climbing.

Now the way got rougher as they mounted; but this toil
was caused by their gain ; for the rock-wall, which thrust out
a buttress there as if it would have gone to the very edge of
the gap wherethrough the flood ran, and so have cut the way
off" utterly, was here somewhat broken down, and its stones
scattered down the steep bent, so that there was a passage,
though a toilsome one.

Thus then through the wind-borne drift of the great force,
through which men could see the Whitewaters tossingdown
below, amidst the clattering thunder of the Shivering Flood
and the rumble of the wind of the gap, that tore through their
garments and hair as if it would rend all to rags and bear it
away, the banners of the Wolf won their way to the crest of
the midmost height of the pass, and the long line of the Host
came clambering after them; and each band of warriors as it
reached the top cast an unheard shout from amidst the
tangled fury of wind and waters.

A little further on and all that turmoil was behind them;

the sun, now grown low, smote the wavering column of spray

from the force at their backs, till the rainbows lay bright

across it; and the sunshine lay wide over a little valley that

306

sloped somewhat steeply to the west right up from the edge The Force
of the river ; and beyond these western slopes could men see amidmost
a low peak spreadingdown on all sides to the plain, till it was thc Pass
like to a bossed shield, and the name of it was Shield-broad.
Dark grey was the valley everywhere, save that by the side
of the water was a space of bright green-sward hedged about
toward the mountain by a wall or rocks tossed up into wild
shapes of spires and jagged poi nts. The river itself was spread
out wide and shallow, and went rattling about great grey
rocks scattered here and there amidst it, till it gathered itself
together to tumble headlong over three slant steps into the
mighty gap below.

From the height in the pass those grey slopes seemed easy
to traverse; but the warriors of the Wolf knew thatit was far
otherwise, for they were but the molten rock-sea that in time
long past had flowed forth from Shield-broad and filled up
the wholevalley endlong and overth wart, coolingas it flowed,
and the tumbled hedge of rock round about the green plain
by the river was where the said rock-sea had been stayed by
meeting with soft ground, and had heaped itself up round
about the green-sward. And that great rock-flood as it cooled
split in divers fashions; and the rain and weather had been
busy on it for ages, so that it was worn into a maze of narrow
paths, most of which, after a little, brought the wayfarer to a
dead stop, or else led him back again to the place whence he
had started ;so that only those who knew the passes throughly
could thread that maze without immeasurable labour.

Now when the men of the Host looked from the high place
whereon they stood toward the green plain by the river, they
saw on the top of that rock-wall a red pennon waving on a
spear, and beside it three or four weaponed men gleaming
bright in the evening sun; and they waved their swords to
the Host, and made lightning of the sunbeams, and the men
of the Host waved swords to them in turn. For these were
the outguards of the Host;and the place whereon they were
was at whiles dwelt in by those who would drive the spoil in
Silverdale, and midmost of the green-sward was a booth
X2 307

They come builded of rough stones and turf, a refuge for a score of men
to the Dale i n rough weather.

Sh Id b d ^° men °^ ^ c vanwarc ^ g** them down the hill, and
made the best of their way toward the grassy plain through
that rocky maze which had once been as a lake of molten glass;
and as short as the way looked from above, it was two hours
or ever they came out of it on to the smooth turf, and it was
moonlight and night ere the House of the Face had gotten
on to the green-sward.

There then the Host abode for that night, and after they
had eaten lay down on the green grass and slept as they might
Bow-may would have brought the Sun-beam into the booth
with some others of the women, but she would not enter it,
because she deemed that otherwise the Bride would abide
without; and the Bride, when she came up, along with the
Houseofthe Steer, beheld the Sun-beam,that Wood-father's
children had made a lair for her without like a hare's form;
and forsooth many a time had she lain under the naked heaven
in Shadowy Vale and the waste about it, even as the Bride had
in the meadows of Burgdale. So when the Bride was bidden
thereto, she went meekly into the booth, and lay there with
others of the damsels-at-arms.

CHAPTER XLH. THE HOST COMETH TO THE
EDGES OF SILVERDALE.

SO wore the night, and when the dawn was come were
the two captains afoot, and they went from band to band
to see that all was ready, and all men were astir betimes,
and by the time that the sun smote the eastern sideof Shield-
broad ruddy, they had broken their fast and were dight for
departure. Then the horns blew up beside the banners, and
rejoiced the hearts of men. But by the command of the cap-
tains this was the last time that they should sound till they
blew for onset in Silverdale, because now would they be
drawing nigher and nigher to the foemen, and they wotted
not but that wandering bands of them might be hard on the
308

lips of the pass, and might hear the horns' voice, and turn to They leave
see what was toward. the Dale

Forth then went the banners of the Wolf, and the men of JJ?^
the vanward fell to threading the rock-maze toward the ldd - broa
north, and in two hours' time were clear of the Dale under
Shield-broad. All went in the same order as yesterday ; but
on this day the Sun-beam would bear her hauberk, and had a
sword girt to her side, and her heart was high and her speech
merry.

When they left the Dale under Shield-broad the way was
easy and wide for a good way, the river flowing betwixt low
banks, and the pass being more like a string of little valleys
than a mere gap, as it had been on the other side of the Dale.
But when one third of the day was past, the way began to
narrow on them again, and to rise up little by little; and at
last the rock-walls drew close to the river, and when men
looked toward the north they saw no way, and nought but a
wall. For thegap of the Shivering Flood turned now to the
east, and the Flood came down from the east in many fells, as
it were over a fearful stair, through a gap where there was no
path between the cliffs and the water, nought but the boiling
flood and its turmoil; so that they who knew not the road
wondered what they should do.

But Folk-might led the banners to where a great buttress
of the cliffs thrust itself into the way, comingwell-nigh down
to the water, just at the corner where the river turned east-
ward, and they got them about it as they might, and on the
other side thereof lol another gap exceeding strait, scarce
twenty foot over, wall-sided, rugged beyond measure, going
up steeply from the great valley : a little water ran through it,
mostly filling up the floor of it from side to side; but it was
but shallow. This was now the battle-road of the Host, and
the vanward entered it at once, turning their backs upon the
Shivering Flood.

Full toilsome and dreary was that strait way; often great
stones hung above their heads, bridging the gap and hiding
the sky from them ; nor was there any path for them save the

309

They turn stream itself; so that whiles were they wading its waters to

from the the knee or higher, and whiles were they striding from stone

fw^" 8 to 8tone am ^dst the rattle of the waters, and whiles were they

stepping warily along the ledges of rock above the deeper

pools, and in all wise labouring in overcoming the rugged

road amidst the twilight of the gap.

Thus they toiled till the afternoon was well worn, and so
at last they came to where the rock- wall was somewhat broken
down on the north side, and great rocks had fallen across the
gap, and dammed up the waters, which fell scantily over the
dam from stone to stone into a pool at the bottom of it. Up
this breach, then, below the force they scrambled and strug-
gled, for rough indeed was the road for them; and so came
they up out of the gap on to the open h ill-side, a great shoulder
of the heath sloping down from the north, and littered over
with big stones, borne thither belike by some ice-river of the
earlier days ; and one great rock was in special as great as the
hall of a wealthy goodman, and shapen like to a hall with
hipped gables, which same the men ofthe Wolf called House-
stone.

There then the noise and clatter of the vanward rose up
on the face of the heath, and men were exceeding joyous
that they had come so far without mishap. Therewith came
weaponed men out from under House-stone, and they came
toward the men ofthe vanward, and they were a half-score of
the forerunners of the Wolf ; therefore Folk-might and Face-
of-god fell at once into speech with them, and had their
tidings; and when they had heard them, they saw nought to
hinder the host from going on their road to Silverdale forth-
right ; and there were still three hoursof daylight before them.
So the vanward ofthe host tarried not, and the captains left
word with the men from under House-stone that the rest of
the Host should fare on after them speedily, and that they
should give this word to each company, as men came up from
out the gap. Then they fared speedily up the hill-side, and in
an hour's wearing had come to the crest thereof, and to where
the ground fell steadily toward the north, and hereabout the
scattered stones ceased, and on the other side of the crest
310

the heath began to be soft and boggy, and at last so soft, that The waters
if they had not been wisely led, they had been bemired often- run toward
times. At last they came to where the flows that trickled Silvcrdalc
through the mires drew together into a stream, so that men
could see it running; and thereon some of the Woodlanders
cried out joyously that the waters were running north; and
then all knew that they were drawing nigh to Silverdale.

No man they met on the road, nor did they of Shadowy
Vale look to meet any; because the Dusky Men were not
great hunters for the more part, except it were of men, and
especially of women ; and, moreover, these hill-slopes of the
mountain-necks led nowhither and were utterly waste and
dreary, and there was nought to be seen there but snipes and
bitterns and whimbrel and plover, and here and there a hill-
fox, or the great erne hanging over the heath on his way to
the mountain.

When sunset came, they were getting clear of the miry
ground, and the stream which they had come across amidst
of the mires had got clearer and greater, and rattled down
between wide stony sides over the heath ; and here and there
it deepened as it cleft its way through little knolls that rose
out of the face of the mountain-neck. As the Host climbed
one of these and was come to its topmost (it was low enough
not to turn the stream), Face-of-god looked and beheld dark-
blue mountains rising up far off before him, and higher than
these, but away to the east, the snowy peaks of the World-
mountains. Then he called to mind what he had seen from
the Burg of the Runaways, and he took Folk-might by the
arm, and pointed toward those far-off mountains.

"Yea," said Folk-might, " so it is, War-leader. Silverdale
lieth between us and yonder blue ridges, and it is far nigher
to us than to them."

But the Sun-beam came close to those twain, and took
Face-of-god by the hand and said : " O Gold-mane, dost thou
see? " and he turned about and beheld her, and saw how her
cheeks flamed and her eyes glittered, and he said in a low
voice: " To-morrow for mirth or silence, for life or death."

But the whole vanward as they came up stayed to behold

3"

The moun- the sight of the mountains on the other side of Silverdale,
tains beyond an d the banners of the Folk hung over their heads, moving
Silverdale j }Ut \\ t fe ; n fa so f t £ T Q f the evening : so went they on their
ways.

The sun sank, and the dusk came on them as they followed
down the stream, and night came, and was clear and starlit,
though the moon was not yet risen. Now was the ground firm
and the grass sweet and flowery, and wind-worn bushes were
scattered round about them, as they began to go down into
the ghyll that cleft the wall of Silverdale, and the night-wind
blew in their faces from the very Dale and place of the Battle
to be. The path down was steep at first, but the ghyll was
wide, and the sides of it no longer straight walls, as in the gaps
of their earlier journey, but broken, sloping back, and (as
they might see on the morrow) partly of big stones and shaly
grit, partly grown over with bushes and rough grass, with
here and there a little stream trickling down their sides. As
they went, the ghyll widened out, till at last they were in a
valley going down to the plain, in places steep, in places flat
and smooth, the stream ever rattling down the midst of it,
and they on the west side thereof. The vale was well grassed,
and oak-trees an d ash and holly and hazel grew here and there
about it ; and at last the Host had before itawood which filled
the vale from side to side, not much tangled with under-
growth, and quite clear of it nigh to the stream-side. There-
into the vanward entered, but went no long way ere the
leaders called a halt and bade pitch the banners, for that there
should they abide the daylight. Thus it had been determined
at the Council of the Hall of the Wolf; for Folk-might had
said: "With an Host as great as ours, and mostly of men
come into a land of which they know nought at all, an on-
slaught by night is perilous: yea, and our foes should be
over-much scattered, and we should have to wander about
seeking them. Let us rather abide in the wood of Wood-dale
till the morning, and then display our banners on the hill-
side above Silverdale, so that they may gather together to
fall upon us: in no case shall they keep us out of the Dale."
312

There then they stayed, and as each comp any came up to The Host
the wood, they were marshalled into their due places, so that r«tcth in
they might set the battle in array on the edge of Silverdale. Wood-dale

CHAPTER XLIII. FACE-OF-GOD LOOKETH ON
SILVERDALE: THE BOWMEN'S BATTLE.

THERE then they rested, as folk wearied with the toil-
some journey, when they had set sure watches round
about their campment; and they ate quietly what meat
they had with them, and so gat them to sleep in the wood on
the eve of battle.

But not all slept; for the two captains went about amongst
the companies, Folk-might to the east, Face-of-god to the
west, to look to the watches, and to see that all was ordered
duly. Also the Sun-beam slept not, but she lay beside Bow-
may at the foot of an oak-tree; she watched Face-of-god
as he went away amidst the men of the Host, and watched
and waked abiding his returning; footsteps.

The night was well worn by then he came back to his place Folk lie
in the van ward, and on his way back he passed through the asleep about
folk of the Steer laid along on the grass, all save those of the thc wood
watch, and the light of the moon high aloft was mingled with
the light of the earliest dawn ; and as it happed he looked
down, and lo! close to his feet the face of the Bride as she lay
beside her grand-sire, her head pillowed on a bundle of
bracken. She was sleeping soundly like a child who has been
playing all day, and whose sleep has come to him unsought
and happily. Her hands were laid together by her side; her
cheek was as fair and clear as it was wont to be at her best;
her face looked calm and happy, and a lock of her dark-red
hair strayed from her uncovered head over her breast and
lay across her wrists, so peacefully she slept.

Face-of-god turned his eyes from her at once, and went by
swiftly, and came to his own company. The Sun-beam saw
him coming, and rose straightway to her feet from beside
Bow-may, who lay fast asleep, and she held out her hands to

3*3

They talk in him ; and he took them and kissed them, and he cast his arms
the dawning about her and kissed her mouth and her face, and she his in
like wise; and she said:

" O Gold-mane, if this were but the morrow of to-morrow!
Yet shall all be well; shall it not?"

Her voice was low, but it waked Bow-may, who sat up at
once broad awake, after the manner of a hunter of the waste
ever ready for the next thing to betide, and moreover the
Sun-beam had been in her thoughts these two days, and she
feared for her, lest she should be slain or maimed. Now she
smiled on the Sun-beam and said :

"What is it? Does thy mind forebode evil? That needeth
not. I tell thee it is not so ill for us of the sword to be in
Silver dale. Thrice have I been there since the Overthrow,
and never more than a half-score in company, and yet am I
whole to-day."

"Yea, sister," said Face-of-god, "but in past times ye did
your deed and then fled away ; but now we come to abide here,
and this night is the last of lurking."

"Ah," she said, "a little way from this I saw such things
that we had good will to abide here longer, few as we were,
but that we feared to be taken alive."

"What things were these?" said Face-of-god.

" Nay," she said, " I will not tell thee now ; but mayhap in
the lighted winter feast-hall, when the kindred are so nigh us
and about us that they seem to us as if they were all the world,
I may tell it thee; or mayhap I never shall."

Said the Sun-beam, smiling: "Thou wilt ever be talking,
Bow-may. Now let the War-leader depart, for he will have
much to do."

And she was well at ease that she had seen Face-of-god
again; but he said:

"Nay, not so much; all is well-nigh done; in an hour it
will be broad day, and two hours thereafter shall the Banner
be displayed on the edge of Silverdale."

The cheek of the Sun-beam flushed, and paled again, as
she said: " Yea, we shall stand even as our Fathers stood on

3*4

the day when, coming from off the waste, they beheld it, and They come
knew it would be theirs. Ah me! how have I longed for this on a man of
morn. But now — Tell me, Gold-mane, dost thou deem that ^ Dalc
I am afraid? And 1 whom thou hast deemed to be a God.' 9

Quoth Bow-may: "Thou shalt deem her twice a God ere
noontide, brother Gold-mane. But come now! the hour of
deadly battle is at hand, and we may not laugh that away ; and
therefore I bid thee remember, Gold-mane, how thou didst
promise to kiss meoncemoreon thevergeof deadly battle."

Therewith she stood up before him, and he tarried not,bu t
kind and smiling took her face between his two hands and
kissed her lips, and she cast her arms about him and kissed
him, and then sank down on the grass again, and turned from
him, and laid her face amongst the grass and the bracken,
and they could see that she was weeping, and her body was
shaken with sobs. But the Sun-beam knelt down to her, and
caressed her with her hand, and spake kind words to her
softly, while Face-of-god went his ways to meet Folk-might.

Now was the dawn fading into full daylight; and between
dawn and sunrise were all men stirring; for the watch had
waked the hundred-leaders, and they the leaders of scores
and half-scores, and they the whole folk ; and they sat quietly
in the wood and made no noise.

In the night the watch of the Sickle had fallen in with a
thrall who had stolen up from the Dale to set gins for hares,
and now in the early morning they brought him to the War-
leader. He was even such a man as those with whom Face-
of-god had fallen in before, neither better nor worse than
most of them : he was sore afraid at first, but by then he was
come to the captains he understood that he had happened
upon friends; but he was dull of comprehension and slow
of speech. Albeit Folk-might gathered from him that the
Dusky Men had some inkling of the onslaught; for he said
that they had been gathering together in the market-place of
Silver-stead, and would do so again soon. Moreover, the
captains deemed from his speech that those new tribes had
come to hand sooner than was looked for, and were even now

3*5

Evil deeds of in the Dale. Folk-might smiled as one who is not best pleased
the Dusky when he heard these tidings; but Face-of-god was glad to
Mcn hear thereof; for what he loathed most was that the war

should drag out in hunting of scattered bands of the foe.

Herewith came Dallach to them as they talked (for Face-ot

?rod had sent for him), and he fell to questioning the man
urther; by whose answers it seemed that many men also had
come into the Dale from Rosedale, so that they of the kin-
dreds were like to have their hands full. Lastly Dallach drew
from the thrall that it was on that very morning that the
great Folk-mote of the Dusky Men should be holden in the
market-place of the Stead, which was right great, and about
it were the biggest of the houses wherein the men of the kin-
dred had once dwelt.

So when they had made an end of questioning the thrall,
and had given him meat and drink, they asked him if he
would take weapons in his hand and lead them on the ways
into the Dale, bidding him look about the wood and note
how great and mighty an host they were. And the carle yea-
said this, after staring about him a while, and they gave him
spear and shield, and he went with the vanward as a way-
leader.

Again presently came a watch of the Shepherds, and they
had found a man and a woman dead and stark naked hanging
to the boughs of a great oak-tree deep in the wood. This men
knew for some vengeance of the Dusky Men, for it was clear
to see that these poor people had been sorely tormented be-
fore they were slain. Also the same watch had stumbled on
the dead body of an old woman, clad in rags, lying amongst
the rank grass about a little flow; she was exceeding lean and
hunger-starved, and in her hand was a frog which she had
half eaten. And Dallach, when he heard of this, said that it
was the wont of the Dusky Men to slay their thralls when
they were past work, or to drive them into the wilderness to
die.

Lastly came a watch from the men of the Face, having with
them two more thralls, lusty young men; these they had
3 J 6

come upon in company of their master, who had brought Counsel
them up into the wood to shoot him a buck, and therefore before
they bare bows and arrows. The watch had slain the master thc battlc
straightway while the thralls stood looking on. They were
much afraid of the weaponed men, but answered to the ques-
tioning much readier than the first man ; for they were house-
hold thralls, and better fed and clad than he, who was but a
toiler in the fields. They yeasaid all his tale, and said more-
over thatthe Folk-mote of theDusky Men should beholden
in the market-place that forenoon, and that most of the war-
riors should be there, both the new-comers and the Rosedale
lords, and that without doubt they should be under arms.

To these men also they gave a good sword and a helm each,
and bade them be brisk with their bows, and they said yea to
marching with the Host; and indeed they feared nothing so
much as being left behind; for if they fell into the hands ot
the Dusky Men, and their master missing, they should first
be questioned with torments, and then slain in the evillest
manner.

Now whereas things had thus betid, and that they knew
thus much of their foemen, Face-of-god called all the chief-
tains together, and they sat on the green grass and held coun-
sel amongst them, and to one and all it seemed good that
they should suffer the Dusky Men to gather together before
they meddled with them, and then fall upon them in such
order and such time as should seem good to the captains
watching how things went; and this would be easy, whereas
they were all lying in the wood in the same order as they
would stand in battle-array if they wereall drawn uptogether
on the brow of the hill. Albeit Face-of-god deemed it good,
after he had heard all that they who had been in the Stead
could tell him thereof, that the Shepherd-Folk, who were
more than three long hundreds, and they of the Steer, the
Bridge, and the Bull, four hundreds in all, should take their
places eastward of the Woodlanders who had led the van-
ward.

Straightway the word was borne to these men, and the

317

H

Silyerdale shift was made: so that presently theWoodlanders wereamid-
clo»c within m0 st of the Host, and had with them on their right hands the
eyeshot Men Q f thc Stcer ^ the Bridge, and the Bull, and beyond them

the Shepherd-Folk. But on their left hand lay the Men of
the Vine, then they of the Sickle, and lastly the Men of the
Face, and these three kindreds were over five hundreds of
warriors : as for the Men of the Wolf, they abode at first with
those companies which they had led through the wastes,
though this was changed afterwards.

All this being done, Face-of-god gave out that all men
should break their fast in peace and leisure; and while men
were at their meat, Folk-might spake to Face-of-god and
said : " Come, brother, for I would show thee a goodly thing;
and thou, Dallach, come with us."

Then he brought them by paths in the wood till Face-of-
god saw the sky shine white between the tree-boles, and in
a little while they werecome well-nigh out of the thicket, and
then they went warily; for before them was nought but the
slopes of Wood-dale, going down steeply into Silverdale,
with nought to hinder the sight of it, save here and there
bushes or scattered trees; and so fair and lovely it was that
Face-of-god could scarce forbear to cry out. He saw that it
was only at the upper or eastern end, where the mountains
of the Waste went round about it, that the Dale was narrow ;
it soon widened out toward the west, and for the most part
was encompassed by no such straight-sided a wall as was
Burgdale,but by sloping hills & bents, mostly indeed some-
what higher and steeper than the pass wherein they were,
but such as men could well climb if they had a mind to, and
there were any end to their journey. The Dale went due west
a good way, and then winded about to the south-west, and
so was hidden from them thereaway by the bents that lay on
their left hand. As it was wider, so it was not so plain aground
as was Burgdale, but rose in knolls and little hills here and
there. A river greater than the Weltering Water wound
about amongst the said mounds; and along the side of it out
in the open dale were many goodly houses and homesteads
of stone. The knolls were mostly covered over with vines,

318

and there were goodly andgreat trees in groves and clumps, They look
chiefly oak and sweet chestnut and linden; many were the down into
orchards, now in blossom, about the homesteads; the pas- thcstcad
tures of the neat and horses spread out bright green up from
the water-side, and deeper green showed the acres of the
wheat on the lower slopes of the knolls, and in wide fields
away from the river.

Just below the pitch of the hill whereon they were, lay
Silver-stead, the town of the Dale. Hitherto it had been an
unfenced place; but Folk-might pointed to where on the
western side a new white wall was rising, and on which, young
as the day yet was, men were busy laying the stones and
spreading the mortar. Fair seemed that town to Face-of-god :
the houses were all builded of stone, and some of the biggest
were roofed withlead, which also as well as silver was dug out
of the mountains at the eastern end of the Dale. The market-
place was clear to see from where they stood, though there
were houses on all sides of it, so wide it was. From their
standing-place it was but three furlongs to this heart of
SilverdaJe; and Face-of-god could see brightly-clad men
moving about in it already. High above their heads he be-
held two great clots of scarlet and yellow raised on poles and
pitched in front of a great stone-built hall roofed with lead,
which stood amidmost of the west end of the Place, and be-
twixt those poles he saw on a mound with long slopes at its
sides somewhat of white stone, and amidmost of the whole
Place a great stack of faggot-wood built up four-square.
Those red & yellow things on the poles he deemed would be
the banners of the murder-carles; and Folk-might told him
that even so it was, and that they were but big bunches of
strips of woollen cloth, much like to great rag-mops, save that
the rags were larger and longer: no other token of war, said
Folk-might, did those folk carry, save a crook-bladed sword,
smeared with man's blood, and bigger than any man might
wield in battle.

"Art thou far-seeing, War-leader?" quoth he. "What
canst thou see in the market-place?"

Said Face-of-god : " Far-seeing am I above most men, and

3 J 9

The horn of I see in the Place a man in scarlet standing by the banner,
the Dusky which is pitched in front of the great stone hall, near to the
Mcn mound with the white stone on it; and meseemethhebeareth

a great horn in his hand."

Said Folk-might : " Yea, and that stone hall was our Mote-
house when we were lords of the Dale, and thence it was that
they who are now thralls of the Dusky Men sent to them
their message and token of yielding. And as for that white
stone, it is die altar of their god; for they have but one, and
he is that same crook-bladed sword. And now that I look, I
see a great stack of wood amidmost the market-place, and
well 1 know what that betokeneth."

"Lo you I " said Face-of-god, " the man with the horn is
gone up on to the altar-mound, and meseemeth he is setting
the little end of the horn to his mouth."

"Hearken then!" said Folk-might. And in a moment
came the hoarse tuneless sound of the horn down the wind
towards them; and Folk-might said:

" I deem I should know what that blast meaneth ;and now
is it time that the Host drew nigher to set them in array be-
hind these very trees. But if ye will, War-leader, we will abide
here and watch the ways of the foemen, and send Dallach
with the word to the Host; also I would have thee suffer me
to bid hither at once two score and ten of the best of the bow-
men of our folk and the Woodlanders, and Wood-wise to
lead them, for he knoweth well the land hereabout, and what
is good to do."

"It is good," said Face-of-god. "Be speedy, Dallach! "

So Dallach departed, running lightly, and the two chiefs
abode there ; and the horn in Silver-stead blew at whiles for a
little, and then stayed; and Folk-might said:

"Lo you! they come flockmeal to the Mote-stead; the
Place will be filled ere long."

Said Face-of-god : "Will they make offerings to their god
at the hallowing-in of their Folk-mote? Where then are the
slaughter-beasts ?"

"They shall not long be lacking," said Folk-might. "See
320

you it is getting thronged about the altar and the Mote- The fashion
house." of the Mar-

Now there were four ways in to the Market-place of Silver- J^'P 1 *** °J
stead turned toward the four airts, and the midmost of the l vcr " 8tea
kindreds' battle looked right down the southern one, which
went up to the wood, but stopped there in a mere woodland
path, and themorepart of the town lay north and west of this
way, albeit there was a way from the east also. But the hill-
side just below the two captains lay two furlongs west of
this southern way; and it went down softly till it was gotten
quite near to the backs of the houses on the south side of the
Market-place, and was sprinkled scantly with bushes and
trees as aforesaid; but at last were there more bushes, which
well-nigh made a hedge across it, reaching from the side of
the southern way ; and afoot or two beyond these bushes the
ground fell by a steep and broken bent down to the level of
the Market-place, and betwixt that fringe of bushes and the
backs of the houses on the south side of the Place was less it
maybe than a full furlong: but the southern road aforesaid
went down softly into the Market-place, since it had been
fashioned so by men.

Now the two chiefs heard a loud blast of horns come up
from the town, and lo! a great crowd of men wending their
ways down the road from the north, and they came into the
market-place with spears and other weapons tossing in the
air, and amidst of these men, who seemed to be all of the
warriors, they saw as they drew nigher some two score and
ten of men clad in long raiment of yellow and scarlet, with
tall spiring hats of strange fashion on their heads, and in their
hands long staves with great blades like scythes done on to
them; and again, in the midst of these yellow and red glaive-
bearers, in the very heart of the throng were some score of
naked folk, they deemed both men and women, but were not
sure, so close was the throng; nor could they see if they were
utterly naked.

"Lo you, brother!" quoth Folk-might, "said I not that
the beasts for the hewing should not tarry? Yonder naked
xv.y 32 1

Now come folk are even they: and ye may well deem that they are the
bowmen of thralls of the Dusky Men ; and meseemeth by the whiteness

th* wf^ nd of thcir skins thc X be of thc best °^ them * For these felons, it
land " * s ^^ c > *°°k to w ^ nn ^ n g {J 1 ^ plenty of thralls in Burgdale,
and so set the less store on them they have, and may expend
them freely."

As he spake they heard the sound of men marching in the
wood behind them, and they turned about and saw that there
was come Wood-wise, and with him upwards of two score
and ten of the bowmen of the Woodlanders and the Wolf-
huntsmen, cragsmen, and scourers of the Waste; men who
could shoot the chaffinch on the twig a hundred yards aloof;
who could make a hiding-place of the bennets of the wayside
grass, or the stem of the slender birch-tree. With these must
needs be Bow-may, who was the closest shooter of all the
kindreds.

So then Wood-wise told the War-leader that Dallach had
given the word to the Host, and that all men were astir and
would be there presently in their ordered companies; and
Face-of-god spake to Folk-might, and said: "Chief of the
Wolf, wilt thou not give command to these bowmen, and set
them to the work; for thou wottest thereof."

cc Yea, that will I," said Folk-might, and turned to Wood-
wise, and said : " Wood-wise, get ye down the slope, and loose
on these felons, who have a murder on hand, if so be ye have
a chance to do it wisely. But in any case come ye all back ; for
all shall be needed yet to-day. So flee if they pursue, for ye
shall have us to flee to. Now be ye wary, nor let the curse of
the Wolf and the Face lie on your slothfulness."

Wood-wise did but nod his head and lift his hand to his
fellows, who set off after him down the slope without more
tarrying. They went very warily, as if they were hunting a
quarry which would flee from them; and they crept amongst
thegrass and stones from bush to bush like serpents, and so,
unseen by the Dusky Men, who indeed were busied over
their own matters, they came to the fringe of bushes above
the broken ground aforesaid, and there they took their stand,
322

and before them below those steep banks was but the space Gifts for
at the back of the houses. As to the houses, as aforesaid, they the God
were not so high as elsewhere about the Market-place; and
at the end of a long low hall there was a gap between its gable
and the next house, whereby they had a clear sight of the
Place about the god's altar and the banners, and the great
hall of Silverdale, with the double stair that went up to the
door thereof.

There then they made them ready, and Wood-wise set
men to watch that none should come sidelong on them un-
awares ; their bows were bent and their quivers open, and
they were eager for the fray.

Thus they beheld the Market-place from their cover, and
saw that those folk who were to be hewn to the god were now
standing facing the altar in a half-ring, and behind them in
another half-ring the glaive-bearers who had brought them
thither stood glaive in hand ready to hew them down when
the token should be given ; and these were indeed the priests
of the god.

There was clear space round about these poor slaughter-
thralls, so that the bowmen could see them well, and they
told up a score of them, half men, half women, and they
were all stark naked save for wreaths of flowers about their
middles and their necks; and they had shackles of lead about
their wrists; which same lead should be taken out of the fire
wherein they should be burned, and from the shape it should
take after it had passed through the fire would the priests
foretell the luck of the deed to be done.

It was clear to be seen from thence that Folk-might was
right when he said that these slaughter-thralls were of the
best of the house-thralls and bed-mates of the Dusky Men,
and that these felons were open-handed to their god, and
would not cheat him, or withhold from him the best and
most delicate of all they had.

Now spake Wood-wise to those about him: "It is sure
that Folk-might would have us give these poor thralls a
chance, and that we must loose upon the felons who would
V2 323

They make he w them down ; and if we are to come back again, we can go
ready to no nigher. What say est thou, Bow-may? Is it nigh enough?
•hoot Can aught be done?"

"Yea, yea," she said, "nigh enough it is; but let Gold-
ring be with me and half a score of the very best, whether
they be of our folk or the Woodlanders, men who cannot
miss such a mark; and when we have loosed, then let all
loose, and stay not till our shot be spent. Haste, now haste!
time presseth; for if the Host showeth on the brow of the
hill, these felons will hew down their slaughter-beasts before
they turn on their foemen. Let the grey-goose wing speed
trouble and confusion amongst them."

But ere she had done her words Wood-wise had got to
speaking quietly with the Woodlanders; and Bears-bane,
who was amidst them, chose out eight of the best of his folk,
men who doubted nothing of hitting whatever they could
see in the Market-place ; and they took their stand for shoot-
ing, and with them besides Bow-may were two women and
four men of the Wolf, and Gold-ring withal, a carle of fifty
winters, long, lean, and wiry, a fell shooter if ever anyone
were.

So all these notched their shafts and laid them on the yew,
and each had between the two last fingers of the shaft-hand
another shaft ready, and a half score more stuck into the
ground before him.

Now giveth Wood-wise the word to these sixteen as to
which ofthe Felons with the glaives they shall each one aim
at; and he saith withal in a soft voice: " Help cometh from
the Hill; soon shall battle be joined in Silverdale."

Thus stand they watching Bow-may and Gold-ring till
they draw home the notches; and amidst their waiting
the glaive-bearing Felons fall a-singing a harsh and ugly
hymn to their crooked-sword god, and the Market-stead
is thronged endlong and overthwart with the tribes of the
Dusky Men.

There now standeth Bow-may far-sighted and keen-eyed,
her face as pale as a linen sleeve, an awful smile on her glitter-
ing eyes and close-set lips, and she feeling the twisted string

3*4

of the red yew and the polished sides of the notch, while the The ipeed-
yelling song of the Dusky priests quavers now and ends ingofthc
with a wild shrill cry, and she noteth the midmost of the 8hafts
priests beginning to handle his weapon: then swift and
steady she draweth home the notches, while the yew bow
standeth still as the oak-bole ere the summer storm ariseth,
and the twang of the sixteen strings maketh but one fell
sound as the feathered bane of men goeth on its way.

There was silence for a moment of time in the Market of
Silver-stead, as if the bolt of the Gods had fallen there; and
then arose a huge wordless yell from those about the altar,
and one of the priests who was left hove up his glaive two-
handed to smite the naked slaughter-thralls; but or ever the
stroke fell, Bow-may's second shaft was through his throat,
and he rolled over amidst his dead fellows; and the other
fifteen had loosed with her, and then even as they could
Wood-wise and the others of their company; and all they
notched and loosed without tarrying, and no shout, no word
came from their lips, only the twanging strings spake for
them; for they deemed the minutes that hurried by were
worth much joy of their lives to be. And few indeed were
the passing minutes ere the dead men lay in heaps about the
Altar of the Crooked Sword, and the wounded men wallowed
amidst them.

CHAP. XLIV. OF THE ONSLAUGHT OF THE
MEN OF THE STEER, THE BRIDGE, AND THE
BULL.

WILD was the turmoil and confusion in the Market-
stead; for the more parf of the men therein knew
not what had befallen about the altar, though some
clomb up to the top of that stack of faggots built for the
burning of the thralls, and when they saw what was toward
fell to yelling and cursing; and their fellows on the plain
Place could not hear their story for the clamour, and they
also fell to howling as if a wood full of wild dogs was there.
And still the shafts rained down on that throng from the

3*5

The Dusky Bent of the Bowmen, for another two score men of the
Men turn on Woodlanders had crept down the hill to them, and shafts
the bowmen fc^ them not But the D^ty M en about the altar, for all

their terror, or even maybe because of it, now began to turn
upon the scarce-seen foemen, and to press up wildly toward
the hill-side, though as it were without any order or aim.
Every man of them had his weapons, and those no mere
gilded toys, but their very tools of battle; and some, but no
great number, had their bows with them and a few shafts ;
and these began to shoot at whatsoever they could see on the
hill-side, but at first so wildly and hurriedly that they did no
harm.

It must be said of them that at first only those about the
altar fell on toward the hill; for those about the road that led
southward knew not what had betided nor whither to turn.
So that at this beginning of the battle, of all the thousands
in the great Place it was but a few hundreds that set on the
Bent of the Bowmen, and at these the bowmen of the kin-
dreds shot so close and so wholly together that they fell one
over another in the narrow ways between the houses whereby
they must needs go to gather on the plain ground betwixt
the backs of the houses and the break of the hill-side. But
little by little the archers of the Dusky Men gathered be-
hind the corpses of the slain, and fell to shooting at what
they could see of the men of the kindreds, which at that
while was not much, for as bold as they were, they fought
like wary hunters of the Wood and the Waste.

But now at last throughout all that throng of Felons in
the Market-place the tale began to spread of foemen come
into the Dale and shooting from the Bents, and all they
turned their faces to the hill, and the whole set of the throng
was thitherward; though they fared but slowly, so evil was
the order of them, each man hindering his neighbour as he
went. And not only did the Dusky Men come flockmeal
toward the Bent of the Bowmen, but also they jostled along
toward the road that led southward. That beheld Wood-
wise from the Bent, and he was minded to get him and his
326

aback, now that they had made so great a slaughter of the The kindred*
foemen; and two or three of his fellows had been hurt by *et the battle
arrows, and Bow-may, she would have been slain thrice over "J arr *£S n
but for the hammer- work of the Alderman. And no marvel Jf™
was that; for now she stood on a little mound not half
covered by a thin thorn-bush, and notched and loosed at
whatever was most notable, as though she were shooting at
the mark on a summer evening in Shadowy Vale. But as
Wood-wise was at point to give the word to depart, from
behind them rang out the merry sound of the Burgdale
horns, and he turned to look at the wood-side, and lo! there-
under was the hill bright and dark with men-at-arms, and
over them floated the Banners of the Wolf, and the Banners
of the Steer, the Bridge, and the Bull. Then gave forth the
bowmen of the kindreds their first shout, and they made no
stay in their shooting; but shot the eagerer, for they deemed
that help would come without their turning about to draw
it to them : and even so it was. For straightway down the
bent came striding Face-of-god betwixt the two Banners of
the Wolf, and beside him were Red-wolf the tall and War-
grove, and therewithal Wood-wont and Wood-wicked, and
many other men of the Wolf; for now that the men of the
kindreds had been brought face to Bice with the foe, and
there was less need of them for way-leaders, the more part
of them were liefer to fight under their own banner along
with the Woodlanders; so that the company of those who
went under the Wolves was more than three long hundreds
and a half; and the bowmen on the edge of the bent shouted
again and merrily, when they felt that their brothers were
amongst them, and presently was the arrow-storm at its
fiercest, and the twanging of bow-strings and the whistle of
the shafts was as the wind among the clefts of the mountains ;
for all the new-comers were bowmen of the best.

But the kindreds of the Steer, the Bridge, and the Bull,
they hung yet a while longer on the hill's brow, their banners
floating over them and their horns blowing; and the Dusky
Felons in the Market-place beheld them, and fear and rage

3*7'

Asongof at once filled their hearts, and a fierce and dreadful yell
onietofthe brake out from them, and joyously did the Men of Burg-
lundrediof j^ answcr them, and song arose amongst them even such

Dale

as this

THE MEN OF THE BRIDGE SING.
Why stand ye together, why bear ye the shield,
Now the calf strameth tether at edge of the field?

Now the lamb bleateth stronger and waters run clear,
And the day groweth longer and glad is the year?

Now the mead-flowers jostle so thick as they stand,
And singeth the throstle all over the land?

THE MEN OF THE STEER SING.
No cloud the day darkened, no thunder we heard,
But the horns' speech we hearkened as men unafeared.

Yea, so merry it sounded, we turned from the Dale,
Where all wealth abounded, to wot of its tale.

THE MEN OF THE BRIDGE SING:

What white boles then bear ye, what wealth of the woods?
What chafferers hear ye bid loud for your goods?

THE MEN OF THE BULL SING:
O the bright beams we carry are stems of the steel ;
Nor long shall we tarry across them to deal.

Hark the men of the cheaping, how loudly they cry
On the hook for the reaping of men doomed to die!

THEY ALL SING:
Heave spear upl fare forward, O Men of the Dale!
For the Warrior, our war-ward, shall hearken the tale.

Therewith they ceased a moment, and then gave a great
and hearty shout all together, and all their horns blew, and
they moved on down the hill as one man, slowly and with
no jostling, the spearmen first, and then they of the axe and
the sword; and on their flanks thedeft archers loosed on the
328

stumbling jostling throng of the Dusky Men, who for their Those kin-
part came on drifting and surging up the road to the hill. &**&* Ml on

But when those big spearmen of the Dale had gone a little
way the horns' voice died out, and their great-staved spears
rose up from their shoulders into the air, and stood so a
moment, and then slowly fell forward, as the oars of the
longship fall into the rowlocks, and then over the shoulders
of the foremost men showed the steel of the five ranks
behind them, and their own spears cast long bars of shadow
on the whiteness of the sunny road. No sound came from
them now save the rattle of their armour and the tramp of
their steady feet; but from the Dusky Men rose up hideous
confused yelling, and those that could free themselves from
the tangle of the throng rushed desperately against the on-
rolling hedge of steel, and the whole throng shoved on be-
hind them. Then met steel and men ; here and there an ash-
stave broke; here and there a Dusky Felon rolled himself
unhurt under the ash-staves, and hewed the knees of the
Dalesmen, and a tall man came tottering down; but what
men or wood-wights could endure the push of spears of
those mighty husbandmen? The Dusky Ones shrunk back
yelling, or turned their backs and rushed at their own folk
with such fierce agony that they entered into the throng, till
the terror of the spear reached to the midmost of it and
swayed them back on the hindermost; for neither was there
outgate for the felons on the flanks of the spearmen, since
there the feathered death beset them, and the bowmen (and
the Bride amongst the foremost) shot wholly together, and
no shaft flew idly. But the wise leaders of the Dalesmen
would not that they should thrust in too far amongst the
howling throng of the Dusky Men, lest they should be
hemmed in by them; for they were but a handful in regard
to them : so there they stayed, barring the way to the Dusky
Men, and the bowmen still loosed from the flanks of them,
or aimed deftly from betwixt the ranks of the spearmen.

And now was there a space often strides or more betwixt
the Dalesmen and their foes, over which the spears hung

3*9

The cham-
pions of the
kindreds
amongst the
Dusky Men

terribly, nor durst the Dusky Men adventure there; and
thereon was nought but men dead or sorely hurt Then
suddenly a horn rang thrice shrilly over all the noise and
clamour of the throng, and the ranks of the spearmen
opened, and forth into that space strode two score of the
swordsmen and axe-wielders of the Dale, their weapons
raised in their hands, and he who led them was Iron-hand of
the Houseof the Bull: tall he was, wide-shouldered, exceed-
ing strong, but beardless and fair-faced. He bore aloft a two-
edged sword, broad-bladed, exceeding heavy, so that few
men could wield it in battle, but not right long; it was an
ancient weapon, and his father before him had called it the
Barley-scythe. With him were some of the best of the kin-
dreds, as Wolf of Whitegarth, Long-hand of Oakholt, Hart
of Highcliff, and War-well the captain of the Bridge. These
made no tarrying on that space ot the dead, but cried aloud
their cries: "For the Burg and the Steerl for the Dale and
the Bridge I for the Dale and the Bull! " and so fell at once on
the Felons; who fled not, nor had room to flee; and also they
feared not the edge-weapons so sorely as they feared those
huge spears. So they turned fiercely on the swordsmen, and
chiefly on Iron-hand, as he entered in amongst them the
first of all, hewing to the right hand and the left, and many
a man fell before the Barley-scythe; for they were but little
before him. Yet as one fell another took his place, and hewed
at him with the steel axe and the crooked sword; and with
many strokes they clave his shield and brake his helm and
rent his byrny, while he heeded little save smiting with the
Barley-scythe, and the blood ran from his arm and his
shoulder and his thigh.

But War-well had entered in among the foe on his left
hand, and unshielded hove up a great broad-bladed axe, that
clave the iron helms of the Dusky Men, and rent their horn-
scaled byrnies. He was not very tall, but his shoulders were
huge and his arms long, and nought could abide his stroke.
He cleared a ring; round Iron-hand, whose eyes were grow-
ing dim as the blood flowed from him, and hewed three

330

strokes before him ; then turned and drew the champion out Great strokes
of the throng, and gave him into the arms of his fellows to ttricken
stanch the blood that drained away the might of his limbs;
and then with a great wordless roar leaped back again on the
Dusky Men as the lion leapeth on the herd of swine; and
they shrank away before him ; and all the swordsmen shouted,
" For the Bridge, for the Bridge ! " and pressed on the harder,
smiting down all before them. On his left hand now was
Hart of Highcliffwieldinga good sword hight Chip-driver,
wherewith he had slain and hurt a many, fighting wisely with
sword and shield, and driving the point home through the
joints of the armour. But even therewith, as he drave a great
stroke at a lord of the Dusky Ones, a cast-spear came nying
and smote him on the breast, so that he staggered, and the
stroke fell flatlings on the shield-boss of his foe, and Chip-
driver brake atwain nigh the hilts ; but Hart closed with him,
and smote him on the face with the pommel, and tore his axe
from his hand and clave his skull therewith, and slew him
with his own weapon, and fought on valiantly beside War-
well.

Now War-well had fought so fiercely that he had rent his
own hauberk with the might of his strokes, and as he raised
his arm to smite a huge stroke, a deft man of the Felons thrust
the spike of his war-axe up under his arm ; and when War-
well felt the smart of the steel, he turned on that man, and, let-
ting his axe fall down to his wrist and hang there by its loop,
he caught the foeman up by the neck and the breech, and
drave him against the other Dusky Ones before him, so that
their weapons pierced and rent their own friend and fellow.
Then he put forth the might of his arms and the pith of his
body, and hove up that Felon and cast him on to the heads of
his fellow murder-carles, so that he rent them and was rent
by them. Then War-well fell on again with the axe, and all
the champions of the Dale shouted and fell on with him, and
the foe shrank away ; and the Dalesmen cleared a space five
fathoms' length before them, and the spearmen drew onward
and stood on the space whereon the first onslaught had been.

33*

Thekindrcdi Then drew those hewers of the Dale together, and forth
drive the from the company came the man that bare the Banner of the
Dusky Men Bridge, and the champions gathered round him, and thejr

ordered their ranks and strode with the Banner before them
three times to and fro across the road athwart the front of the
spearmen, and then with a great shout drew back within the
spear-hedge. Albeit five of the champions of the Dale had
been slain outright there, and the more part of them hurt
more or less.

But when all were well within the ranks, once again blew
the horn, and all the spears sank to the rest, and the kindreds
drave the spear-furrow, and a space was swept clear before
them, and the cries and yells of the Dusky Men were so fierce
andwildthattheroughvoicesoftheDalesmen were drowned
amidst them.

Forth then came every bowman of the kindred that was
there and loosed on the Dusky Men ; and they forsooth had
some bowmen amongst them, but cooped up and jostled as
they were, they shot but wildly; whereas each shaft of the
Dale went home truly.

But amongst the bowmen forth came the Bride in her
glittering war-gear, and stepped lightly to the front of the
spearmen. Her own yew bow had been smitten by ashaft and
broken in her hand : so she had caught up a short horn bow
and a quiver from one of the slain of the Dusky Men; and
now she knelt on one knee under the shadow of the spears
nigh to her grandsire Hall-ward, and with a pale face and
knitted brow notched and loosed,and notched and loosedon
the throng of foemen, as if she were some daintily fashioned
engine ofwar.

So fared the battle on the road that went from the south
into the Market-stead. Valiantly had the kindred fought
there, and no man of them had blenched, and much had they
won ; but the way was perilous before them, for the foe was
many and many.

33*

CHAP. XLV. OF FACE-OF-GOD'S ONSLAUGHT.

NOW the banners of the Wolf flappedand rippledover Nowpass we
the heads of the Woodlanders and the Men of the toFace-of-
Wolf ; and the men shot all thejr might, nor took heed *£ and hb
now to cover themselves against the shafts of the Dusky
Men. Asfor these, for all they were so many, their arrow-shot
was no great matter, for they were in very evil order, as has
been said; and moreover, their rage was so great to come to
handy strokes with these foemen, that some of them flung
away their bows to brandish the axe or the sword. Neverthe-
less were some among the kindred hurt or slain by their
arrows.

No w stood Face-of-god wi t h the foremost ; and from where
he stood he could see somewhat of the battle of the Dalesmen,
and he wotted that it was th rivi ng ; therefore he looked before
him and close around him, and noted whatwas toward there.
The space betwixt the houses and the break of the bent
was crowded with the fury of the Dusky Men tossing their
weapons aloft, crying to each other and at the kindred, and
here and there loosing a bow-string on them ; but whatever
was their rage they might not come a many together past a
linewithin ten fathom of the bent's end; for three hundred of
the best of bowmen were shooting at them so ceaselessly that
no Dusky Man was safe of any bare place of his body, and they
fell over one another in that penfold of slaughter, and for all
their madness did but little.

Yet was the heart of the War-leader troubled; for he
wotted that it might not last for ever, and there seemed no
end to the throng of murder-carles ;and the time would come
when the arrow-shot would be spent, and they must needs
come to handy strokes, and that with so many.

Now a voice spake to him as he gazed with knitted brows
and careful heart on that turmoil of battle:

"What now hast thou donewiththeSun-beam,and where
is her brother? Is the Chief of the Wolf skulking when our

333

I

Bow-may is work is so heavy? And thou meseemeth art overlatc on the
battle-angry field : the mowing of this meadow is no sluggard's work."

He turned and beheld Bow-may, and gazed on her face
for a moment, and saw her eyes how they glittered, and how
the pommels of her cheeks were burning red and her lips dry
and grey; but before he answered he looked all round about
to see what was to note; and he touched Bow-may on the
shoulder and pointed to down below where a man of the
Felons had just come out of the court of one of the houses: a
man taller than most, very gaily arrayed, with gilded scales
all over him, so that, with his dark face and blue eyes, he
looked like some strange dragon. Bow-may spake not, but
stamped her foot with anger. Yet if her heart were hot, her
hand was steady ;for she notched a shaft, andjust as the Dusky
Chief raised his axe and brandished it aloft, she loosed, and
the shaft flew and smote the felon in the armpit and the de-
fault of the armour, and he fell to earth. But even as she
loosed, Face-of-god cried out in a loud voice :

" O lads of battle ! shoot close and all together. Tarry not,
tarry not! for we need a little time ere sword meets sword,
and the others of the kindreds are at work! "

But Bow-may turned round to him and said : "Wilt thou
not answer me? Where is thy kindness gone?"

Even as she was speaking she had notched and loosed an-
other shaft, speaking as folk do who turn from busy work at
loom or bench.

Then said Face-of-god: "Shoot on, sister Bow-may! The
Sun-beam is gone with her brother, and he is with the Men
of the Face."

He broke off here, for a man fell beside him hurt in the
neck, and Face-of-god took his bow from his hands and shot a
shaft, while one of the women who had been hurt also tended
the newly-wounded man. Then Face-of-god went on speak-
ing:

" She was unwilling to go, but Folk-might and I constrain-
ed her; for we knew that this is the most perilous place of
the battle — hah! see those three felons, Bow-may! they arc
aiming hither."

334

And again he loosed and Bow-may also, but a shaft rattled Face-of-god
on his helm withal, and another smote a Woodlander beside bcholdcth
him, and pierced through the calf of his leg, as he turned j~ c . ^ .
and stooped to take fresh arrows from a sheaf that lay there ; ow l
but the carle took it by the notch and the point, and brake it
and drew it out, and then stood up and went on shooting.
And Face-of-god spake again :

"Folk-might skulketh not; nor the Men of the Vine,
and the Sickle, and the Face, nor the Shepherd-Folk: soon
shall they be making our work easy to us, if we can hold
our own till then. They are on the other roads that lead into
the square. Now suffer me, and shoot onl"

Therewith he looked round about him, and he saw on the
left hand that all was quiet ; and before him was the confused
throng of the Dusky Men trampling their own dead and
wounded, and not able as yet to cross that death-line of the
arrow so near to them. But on his right hand he saw how
they of the kindreds held them firm on the way. Then for a
moment of time he considered and thought, tillhim-seemed
he could see the whole battle yet to be foughten; and his
face flushed, and he said sharply: " Bow-may, abide here and
shoot, and show the others where to shoot, while the arrows
hold out; but we will go further for a while, and ye shall
follow when we have made the rent great enough."

She turned to him and said : " Why art thou not more joy-
ous? thou art like an host without music or banners."

" Nay," said he, "heed not me, but my bidding!"

She said hastily: " I think I shall die here; since for all we
have shot we minish them nowise. Now kiss me this once
amidst the battle, and say farewell."

He said: "Nay, nay; it shall not go thus. Abide a little
while, and thou shalt see all this tangle open, as the sun
cleaveth the clouds on the autumn morning. Yet lo thou!
since thou wilt have it so."

And he bent forward and kissed her face, and now the tears
ran over it, and she said smiling somewhat : " Now is this
more than I looked for, whatso may betide."

But while she was yet speaking he cried in a great voice:

335

Face-of-god <c Ye who have spent your shot, or have nigh spent it, to axe
fclleth on to an d sword, and follow me to clear the ground ' twixt the bent
handystrokci an( j t ^ e h a }i s# L et eac h h e jp each, but throng not each other.

Shoot wisely, ye bowmen, and keep our backs clear of the
foe. On, on! for the Burg and the Face, for the Burg and the
Face!"

Therewith he leapt down the steep of the hill, bounding
like the hart, with Dale-warden naked in his hand; and they
that followed were two score and ten ; and the arrows of their
bowmen rained over their heads on the Dusky Men, as they
smote down the first of the foemen, and the others shrieked
and shrank from them, or turned on them smiting wildly
and desperately.

But Face-of-god swept round the great sword and plunged
into that sea of turmoil and noise and evil sights and savours,
and even therewith he heard clearly a voice that said : " Gold-
ring, I am hurt ; take my bow a while ! " and knew it for Bow-
may's; but it came to his ears like the song of a bird without
meaning ; for it was as if his life were changed at once ; and in
a minute or two he had cut thrice with the edge and thrust
twice with the point,eager, bu t clear-eyedand deft ; and he saw
asinapicture the foe before him, and thegrey roofs of Silver-
stead, and through the gap in them the tops of the blue ridges
far aloof. And now had three fallen before him,and they feared
him, and turned on him, and smote so many together that
their strokes crossed each other, and one warded him from
the other; and he laughed aloud and shielded himself, and
drave the point of Dale-warden amidst the tangle of weapons
through the open mouth of a captain of the Felons, and
slashed a cheek with a back-stroke, and swept round the
edge to his right hand and smote off a blue-eyed snub-nosed
head; and therewith a poleaxe smote him on the left side of
his helm, so that he tottered; but he swung himself round,
and stood stark and upright, and gave a short hack with the
edge, keeping Dale-warden well in hand, and a gold-clad
Felon, a champion of them, and their tallest on the ground,
fell aback, his throat gaping more than the mouth of him.

Then Face-of-god shouted and waved Dale-warden aloft

336

to the Banner of the Wolf that floated behind and above him, They drive
and he cried out: "As I have promised so have I done!" And thefoemen
he looked about, and beheld how valiantly his fellows had aback
been doing; for before him now was a space of earth with no
man standing on his feet thereon, like the swathe of the mow-
ers of June; and beyond that was the crowd of the Dusky
Men wavering like the tall grass abiding the scythe.

But a minute, and they fell to casting at Face-of-god and
his fellows spears and knives and shield's and whatsoever
would fly; and a spear smote him on the breast, but entered
not; and a bossed shield fell over his face withal, and a
plummet of sling-lead smote his helm, and he fell to earth;
but leapt up again straightway, and heard as he arose a great
shout close to him, and a shrill cry, and lo ! at his left side Bow-
may, her sword in her hand, and the hand red with blood
from a shaft-graze on her wrist, and a white cloth stained
with blood about her neck; and on his right side Wood- wise
bearing the banner and crying the Wolf-whoop; for the
whole company was come down from the slope and stood
around him.

Then for a little while was there such a stilling of the
tumult about him there, that he heard great and glad cries
from the Road of the South of "The Burg and the Steer!
The Dale and the Bridge! The Dale and the Bull!" And
thereafter a terrible great shrieking cry, and a huge voice
that cried: "Death, death, death to the Dusky Men!" And
thereafter again fierce cries and great tumult of the battle.

Then Face-of-god shook Dale-warden in the air, and
strode forward fiercely, but not speedily, and the whole
company went foot for foot along with him ; and as he went,
would he or would he not, song came into his mouth, a song
of the meadows of the Dale, even such as this :

The wheat is done blooming and rust's on the sickle,
And green are the meadows grown after the scythe.

Come, hands for the dance! For the toil hath been mickle,
And 'twixt haysel and harvest 'tis time to be blithe.

xv.z

337

A song of And what shall the tale be now dancing is over,

the harvest And kind on the meadow sits maiden by man,

And the old man bethinks him of days of the lover,
And the warrior remembers the field that he wan?

Shall we tell of the dear days wherein we are dwelling,
The best days of our Mother, the cherishing Dale,

When all round about us the summer is telling,
To ears that Wy hearken, the heart of the tale?

Shall we sing of these hands and these lips that caress us,
And the limbs that sun-dappled lie light here beside,

When still in the morning they rise but to bless us,
And oft in the midnight our footsteps abide?

O nay, but to tell of the fathers were better,

And of how we were fashioned from out of the earth ;

Of how the once lowly spurned strong at the fetter;
Of the days of the deeds and beginning of mirth.

And then when the feast-tide is done in the morning,
Shall we whet the grey sickle that bideth the wheat,

Till wan grow the edges, and gleam forth a warning
Of the field and the fallow where edges shall meet.

And when cometh the harvest, and hook upon shoulder
We enter the red wheat from out of the road,

We shall sing, as we wend, of the bold and the bolder,
And the Burg of their building, the beauteous abode.

As smiteth the sickle amid the sun's burning

We shall sing how the sun saw the token unfurled,

When forth fared the Folk, with no thought of returning,
In the days when the Banner went wide in the world.

Many saw that he was singing, but heard not the words of
his mouth, for great was the noise and clamour. But he heard
Bow-may, how she laughed by his side, and cried out:

338

" Gold-mane, dear-heart, now art thou merry indeed ; and The Dusky
glad am I, though they told me that I am hurt. — Ah! now Men turn on
beware, beware ! " the Wood-

For indeed the Dusky Men, seeing the wall of steel roll- an en
ingdown on them, and cooped up by the houses, so that they
scarce knew how to flee, turned in the face of death, the
foremost of them, and rushed furiously on the array of the
Woodlanders, and all those behind pressed on them like the
bigwave of the ebbing sea when the gust of the wind driveth
itlandward.

The Woodlanders met them, shouting out: "The Green-
wood and the Wolf, the Greenwood and the Wolf!" But not
a few of them fell there, though they gave not back a foot ; for
so fierce now were the Dusky Men, that hewing and thrust-
ing at them availed nought, unless they were slain outright
or stunned; and even if they fell they rolled themselves up
against their tall foemen, heeding not death or wounds if
they might but slay or wound. There then fell War-grove
and ten others of the Woodlanders, and four men of the
Wolf, but none before he had slain his foeman ; and as each
man fell or was hurt grievously, another took his place.

Now a felon leapt up and caught Gold-ring by the neck The battle
and drew him down, while another strove to smite his head burns up
off; but the stout carle drave a wood-knife into the side of the a 8 ain
first felon, and drew it out speedily and smote the other, the
smiter,in the face with the same knife, and therewith they all
three rolled together on the earth amongst the feet of men.
Even so did another felon by Bow-may, and dragged her
down to the ground, and smote her with a long knife as she
tumbled down ; and this was a feat of theirs, tor they were
long-armed like apes.

But as to this felon, Dale-warden's edge split his skull, and
Face-of-god gathered his might together and bestrode Bow-
may, till he had hewed a space round about him with great
two-handed strokes ; and yet the blade brake not. Then he
caught up Bow-may from the earth, and the felon's knife had
not pierced her hauberk, but shewasastonied, and might not
z2 339

The Dusky
Men over-
thrown
before the
kindreds

stand upon her feet ; and Face-of-god turned aside a little
with her, and half bore her, half thrust her through the throng
to the rearward of his folk, and left her there with two carlines
of the Wolf who followed the host for leechcraft's sake, and
then turned back shouting: "For the Face, for the Facel"
and there followed him tack to the battle, a band of those
who were fresh as yet, and their blades unbloodied, the young
men of the Woodlands.

The wearier fighters made way for them as they came on
shouting, and Face-of-god was ahead of them all, and leapt at
thefoemen as a man unwearied and striking his first stroke,
so wondrous hale he was; and they drave a wedge amidst of
the Dusky Men, and then turned about and stood back to
back hewing at all that drifted on them. But as Face-of-god
cleared a space about him, lo! almost within reach of his
sword-point up rose a grim shape from the earth, tall, grey-
haired, and bloody-faced, who uttered the Wolf- whoop from
amidst the terror of his visage, and turned and swung round
his head an axe of the Dusky Men, and fell to smiting them
with their own weapon. The Dusky Men shrieked in answer
to his whoop, and ail shrunk from him and Face-of-god ; but
a cry of joy went up from the kindred, for they knew Gold-
ring, whom they deemed had been slain. So they all pressed
on together, smiting down the foe before them, and the
Dusky Men, some turned their backs and drave those be-
hind them, till they too turned and were strained through the
passages and courts of the houses, and some were overthrown
and trodden down as they strove to hold face to the Wood-
landers, and some were hewn down where they stood ; but
the whole throng of those that were on their feet drifted to-
ward the Market-place, the Woodlanders following them
ever with point and edge, till betwixt the bent and the houses
no foeman stood up against them.

Then they stood together, and raised the whoop of viftory,
and blew their horns long and loud in token of their joy, and
the Woodland men lifted up their voices and sang:

340

Now far, far aloof The Song of

Standeth lintel and roof, the Wood-

The dwelling of days land Wolf

Of the Woodland ways:

Now nought wendeth there

Save the wolf and the bear,

And the fox of the waste

Faring soft without haste.
No carle the axe whetteth on oak-laden hill ;
No shaft the hart letteth to wend at his will;
None heedeth the thunder-clap over the glade,
And the wind-storm thereunder makes no man afraid.
Is it thus then that endeth man's days on Mid-earth,
For no man there wendeth in sorrow or mirth?

Nay, look down on the road

From the ancient abode!

Betwixt acre and field

Shineth helm, shineth shield.

And high over the heath

Fares the bane in his sheath ;

For the wise men and bold

Go their ways o'er the wold.
Now the Warrior hath given them heart and fair day,
Unbidden, undriven, they fare to the fray.
By the rock and the river the banners they bear,
And their battle-staves quiver 'neath halbert and spear ;
On the hill's brow they gather, and hang o'er the Dale
As the clouds of the Father hang, laden with bale.

Down shineth the sun
On the war-deed half done;
All the fore-doomed to die,
In the pale dust they lie.
There they leapt, there they fell,
And their tale shall we tell ;
But we, e'en in the gate
Of the war-garth we wait,

341

Face-of-god Till the drift of war-weather shall whistle us on,
lookcth into And we tread all together the way to be won,
the battle fo t ^ c j^ j an( j^ t ^ e (j we lling for whose sake we came

again ^ ^ o ^ ee ^ s f QT fa telling of song-becrowned fame.

Settle helm on the head then ! Heave sword for theDale !

Nor be mocked of the dead men for deedless and pale.

CHAPTER XLVI. MEN MEET IN THE MARKET
OF SILVER-STEAD.

SO sang they; but Face-of-god went with Red- wolf, who
was hurt sorely, but not deadly, and led him back toward
the place just under the break of the bent; and there he
found Bow-may in the hands of the women who were tending
her hurts. She smiled on him from a pale face as he drew nigh,
and he looked kindly at her, but he might not abide there,
for haste was in his feet. He left Red-wolf to the tending of
the women, and clomb the bent hastily, and when he deemed
he was high enough, he looked about him; and somewhat
more than half an hour had worn since Bow-may had sped
the first shaft against the Dusky Men.

He looked down into the Market-stead, and deemed he
could see that nigh the Mote-house the Dusky Men were
gathering into some better order; but they were no longer
drifting toward the southern bents, but were standing round
about the Altar as men abiding somewhat; and he deemed
that they had gotten more bowshot than before, and that
most of them bare bows. Though so many had been slain in
the battles of the southern bents, yet was the Market-stead
full of them, so to say, for others had come thereto in place
of those that had fallen.

But now as he looked arose mighty clamour amongst
them ; and a little west of the Altar was a stir and a hurrying
onward and around as in the eddies of a swift stream. Face-
of-god wotted not what was betiding there, but he deemed
that they were now ware of the onfall of Folk-might and
Hall-face and the men of Burgdale, for their faces were all
turned to where that was to be looked for.

342

- ^i^^j- ' ji . i^^w^^^^m jljww^^w^pw^^i

So he turned and looked on the road to the east of him, They hear
where had been the battle of the Steer, but now it was all the horns
gone down toward the Market-place, and he could but hear °f° nsct
the clamour of it; but nought he saw thereof, because of the
houses that hid it.

Then he cast his eyes on the road that entered the Market-
stead from the north,and he saw thereon many men gathered ;
and he wotted not what they were; for though there were
weapons amongst them, yet were they not all weaponed, as
far as he could see.

Now as he looked this way and that, and deemed that he
must tarry no longer, but must enter into the courts of the
houses before him and make his way into the Market-
stead, lo! a change in the throng of Dusky Warriors nigh the
Mote-house, and the ordered bands about the Altar fell to
drifting toward the western way with one accord, with great
noise and hurry and fierce cries of wrath. Then made Face-of-
god no delay, but ran down the bent at once, and at the break
of it came upon Bow-may standing upright and sword in
hand; and as he passed, she joined herselfto him, and said:
" What new tidings now, Gold-mane? "

<c Tidings of battle! "he cried; "tidings of victory! Folk-
might hath fallen on, and the Dusky Men run hastily to
meet him. Hark, hark! "

For as he spoke came a great noise of horns, and Bow-may
said: " What horn is that blowing?"

He stayed not, but shouted aloud: " For the Face, for the
Face! Now will we fall upon their backs! "

Therewith was he come to his company, and he cried out
to them : " Heard ye the horn, heard ye the horn ? Now follow
me into the Market-place; much is yet to do! "

Even therewith came the sound of other horns, and all
men were silent a moment, and then shouted all together,
for the Woodlanders knew it for the horn of the Shepherds
coming on by the eastward way.

But Face-of-god waved his sword aloft and set on at once,
and they followed and gat them through the courts of the
houses and their passages into the Market-place. There

343

Face-of-god they found more room than they looked to find ; for the foe-
pondereth men had drawn away on the left hand toward the battle ot
T^^* 7 * 1 * Folk-might, and on the right hand toward the battle of the

shall fall on g^ . an( j ^^ was tfcc noise and cry ^ came ^^

Now stood Face-of-god under the two banners of the
Wolf in the Market-place of Silver-stead, and scarce had
he time to be high-hearted, for needs must he ponder in his
mind what thing were best to do. For on the left hand he
deemed the foe was the strongest and best ordered ; but there
also were the kindreds the doughtiest, and it was little like
that the Felons should overcome the spear-casters of the
Face and the glaive-bearers of the Sickle, and the bowmen
of the Vine: there also were the wisest leaders, as the stark
elder Stone-face, and the tall Hall-face, and his father of
the unshaken heart, and above all Folk-might, fierce in his
wrath, but his anger burning steady and clear, like the oaken
butt on the hearth of the hall.

Then as his mind pictured him amongst the foe, it made
therewith another picture of the slender warrior Sun-beam
caught in the tangle of battle, and longing for him and call-
ing for him amidst the hard hand-play. And thereat his face
flushed, and all his body waxed hot, and he was on the very
point of leading the onset against the foe on the left. But
therewith he bethought him of the bold men of the Steer
and the Bridge and the Bull weary with much fighting; and
he remembered also that the Bride was amongst them and
fighting, it might be, amidst the foremost, and if she were
slain how should he ever hold up his head again. He be-
thought him also that the Shepherds, who had fallen on by
the eastern road, valiant as they were, were scarce so well
armed or so well led as the others. Therewithal he bethought
him (and again it came like a picture into his mind) of falling
on the foemen by whom the southern battle was beset, and
then the twain of them meeting the Shepherds, and lastly,
all those three companies joined together clearing the
Market-place, and meeting the men under Folk-might in
the midst thereof.

344

Therefore, scant had he been pondering these things in They fell on
his mind for a minute ere he cried out: "Blow up horns, thebesetters
blow up! forward banners, and follow me, O valiant men! to ° t,l *"i
the helping of the Steer, the Bridge, and the Bull; deep have
they thrust into the Dusky Throng, and belike are hard
pressed. Hark how the clamour ariseth from their besetters!
On now, on!"

Therewith hung a star of sunlight on his sword as he
raised it aloft, and the Wolf-whoop rang out terribly in the
Market-place, for now had the Woodlanders also learned
it, and the hearts of the foemen sank as they heard the might
and the mass thereof. Then the battle of the Woodlanders
swept round and fell upon the flank of them who were be-
setting the kindreds, as an iron bar smiteth the soft fir- wood ;
and they of the kindreds heard their cry, but faintly and con-
fusedly, so great was the turmoil of battle about them.

Now once more was Bow-may by the side of Face-of-god ;
and if she had not the might of the mightiest, yet had she
the deftness of the deftest. And now was she calm and cool,
shielding herself with a copper-bossed target, and driving
home the point of her sharp sword; white was her face, and
her eyes glittered amidst it, and she seemed to men like to
those on whose heads the Warrior hath laid the Holy Bread.

As to Wood-wise, he had given the Banner of the red-
jawed Wolf to Stone-wolf, a huge and dreadful warrior some
forty winters old, who had fought in the Great Overthrow,
and now hewed down the Dusky Men, wielding a heavy
short-sword left-handed. But Wood-wise himself fought
with a great sword, giving great strokes to the right hand
and the left, and was no more hasty than is the hewer in the
winter wood.

Face-of-god fought wisely and coldly now, and looked
more to warding his friends than destroying his foes, and
both to Bow-may and Wood-wise his sword was a shield ;
for oft he took the life from the edge of the upraised axe, and
stayed the point of the foeman in mid-air.

Even so wisely fought the whole band of the Woodlanders

345

Evil tidings and the Wolves, who got within smiting space of the foe;

for they had no will to cast away their lives when assured
victory was so nigh to them. Sooth to say, the hand-play was
not so hard to them as it had been betwixt the bent and the
houses; for the Dusky Men were intent on dealing with
the men of the kindreds from the southern road, who stood
war-wearied before them ; and they were hewing and casting
at them, and baying and yelling like dogs; and though they
turned about to meet the storm of the Woodlanders, yet
their hearts foiled them withal, and they strove to edge away
from betwixt those two fearful scythes of war, fighting as
men fleeing, not as men in onset. But still the Woodlanders
and the Wolves came on, hewing and thrusting, smiting
down the foemen in heaps, till the Dusky Throng grew
thin, and the staves of the Dalesmen and their bright ban-
ners in the morning sun were clear to see, and at last their
very faces, kindly and familiar, worn and strained with the
stress of battle, or laughing wildly, or pale with the fury of
the fight. Then rose up to the heavens the blended shout of
the Woodlanders and the Dalesmen, and now there was
nought of foemen betwixt them save the dead and the
wounded.

Then Face-of-god thrust his sword into its sheath all
bloody as it was, and strode over the dead men to where
Hall-ward stood under the banner of the Steer, and cast his
arms about the old carle, and kissed him for joy of the vic-
tory. But Hall-ward thrust him aback and looked him in the
face, and his cheeks were pale and his lips clenched, and his
eyes haggard and staring, and he said in a harsh voice :

"O young man, she is dead! I saw her fall. The Bride is
dead, and thou hast lost thy troth-plight maiden. O death,
death to the Dusky Men! "

Then grew Face-of-god as pale as a linen sleeve, and all
the new-comers groaned and cried out. But a bystander
said: " Nay, nay, it is nought so bad as that; she is hurt, and
sorely ; but she liveth yet."

Face-of-god heard him not. He forgot Dale- warden lying
346

in his sheath, and he saw that the last speaker had a great The bale-fire
wood-axe broad and heavy in his hand, so he cried: " Man, burnetii
man, thine axe ! " and snatched it from him, and turned about
to the foe again, and thrust through the ranks, suffering
none to stay him till all his friends were behind and all his
foes before him. Andas he burst forth from the ranks waving
his axe aloft, bare-headed now, his yellow hair flying abroad,
his mouth crying out, " Death, death, death to the Dusky
Men! " fear of him smote their hearts, and they howled and
fled before him as they might; for they said that the Dales-
men had prayed their Gods into the battle. But not so fast
could they flee but he was presently amidst them, smiting
down all about him, and they so terror-stricken that scarce
might they raise a hand against him. All that blended host
followed him mad with wrath and victory, and as they
pressed on, they heard behind them the horns and war-
cries of the Shepherds falling on from the east. Nought they
heeded that now, but drave on a fearful storm of war, and
terrible was the slaughter of the Felons.

It was but a few minutes ere they had driven them up
against that great stack of faggots that had been dight for
the burnt-offering of men, and many of the felons had
mounted up on to it, and now in their anguish of fear were
shooting arrows and casting spears on all about them, heed-
ing little if they were friend or foe. Now were the men of the
kindreds at point to climb this twiggen burg; but by this
time the fury of Face-of-god had run clear, and he knew
where he was and what he was doing; so he stayed his folk,
and cried out to them: "Forbear, climb not! let the torch
help the sword I " And therewith he looked about and saw
the fire-pot which had been set down there for the kindling
of the bale-fire, and the coals were yet red in it; so he
snatched up a dry brand and lighted it thereat, and so did
divers others, and they thrust them among the faggots, and
the fire caught at once, and the tongues of flame began to
leap from faggot to faggot till all was in a light low ; tor the
wood had been laid tor that very end, and smeared with

347

The meeting grease and oil so that the burning to the god might be

in the Mar- speedy.

ket-place jj ut ^ fi crcencss of the kindreds heeded not the fire, nor

overmuch the men who leapt down from the stack before
it, but they left all behind them, faring straight toward the
western outgate from the Market-stead ; and Face-of-god
still led them on ; though by now he was wholly come to his
right mind again, albeit the burden of sorrow yet lay heavy
on his heart. He had broken his axe, and had once more
drawn Dale-warden from his sheath, and many felt his point
and edge.

But now, as they chased, came a rush of men upon them
again, as though a new onset were at hand. That saw Face-
or-god and Hall-ward and War-well, and other wise leaders
of men, and they bade their folk forbear the chase, and lock
their ranks to meet the onfall of this new wave of foemen.
And they did so, and stood fast as a wall; but lot the on-
rush that drave up against them was but a fleeing shrieking
throng, and no longer an array of warriors, for many had cast
away their weapons, and were rushing they knew not whither ;
for they were oeing thrust on the bitter edges of Face-of-
god's companies by the terror of the fleers from the onset of
the men of the Face, the Sickle, and the Vine, whom Hall-
face and Stone-face were leading, along with Folk-might
Then once again the men of Face-of-god gave forth the
whoop of victory, and pressed forward again, hewing their
way through the throng of fleers, but turning not to chase to
the right or the left; while at their backs came on the Shep-
herd-Folk, who had swept down all that withstood them ; for
now indeed was the Market-stead getting thinner of living
men.

So led the War-leader his ordered ranks, till at last over
the tangled crowd of runaways he saw the banners of the
Burg and the Face flashing against the sun, and heard the
roar of the kindreds as they drave the chase towards them.
Then he lifted up his sword, and stood still, and all the host
behind him stayed and cast a huge shout up to the heavens,
and there they abode the coming of the other Dalesmen.
348

But the War-leader sent a message to Hound-under- [Men meet
Greenbury, bidding him lead the Shepherds to the chase of rejoicing]
the Dusky Men, who were now all fleeing toward the north-
ern outgate of the Market. Howbeit he called to mind the
throng he had seen on the northern road before they were
come into the Market-stead, and deemed that way also death
awaited the foemen, even if the men of the kindreds forbore
them.

But presently the space betwixt the Woodlanders and the
men of the Face was clear of all but the dead, so that friend
saw the face of friend ; and it could be seen that the war-
riors of the Face were ruddy and smiling for joy, because the
battle had been easy to them, and but few of them had fallen ;
for the Dusky Men, who had left the Market-stead to fall
on them, had had room for fleeing behind them, and had
speedily turned their backs before the spear-casting of the
men of the Face and the onrush of the swordsmen.

There then stood these victorious men feeing one another,
and the banner-bearers on either side came through the
throng, and brought the banners together between the two
hosts; and the Wolf kissed the Face, and the Sickle and the
Vine met the Steer and the Bridge and the Bull: but the
Shepherds were yet chasing the fleers.

There in the forefront stood Hall-face the tall, with the
joy of battle in his eyes. And Stone-face, the wise carle in
war, stood solemn and stark beside him; and there was the
goodly body and the fair and kindly visage of the Alderman
smiling on the faces of his friends. But as for Folk-might,
his face was yet white and aweful with anger, and he looked
restlessly up and down the front of the kindreds, though he
spake no word.

Then Face-of-god could no longer forbear, but he thrust
Dale-warden into his sheath, and ran forward and cast his
arms about his father's neck and kissed him; and the blood
of himself and of the foemen was on him, for he had been
hurt in divers places, but not sorely, because of the good
hammer- work of the Alderman.

Then he kissed his brother and Stone-face, and he took

349

Herecometh Folk-might by the hand, and was on the point of speaking
the some word to him, when the ranks of the Face opened, and

Sun-beam \ Q j t ^ e Sun-beam in her bright war-gear, and the sword girt
to her side, and she unhurt and unsullied.

Then was it to him as when he met her first in Shadowy
Vale, and he thought of little else than her; but she stepped
lightly up to him, and unashamed before the whole host she
kissed him on the mouth, and he cast his mailed arms about
her, and joy made him forget many things and what was next
to do, though even at that moment came afresh a great clam-
our of shrieks and cries from the northern outgate of the
Market-stead : and the burning pile behind them cast a great
wavering flame into the air, contending with the bright sun
of that fair day, now come hard on noontide. But ere he drew
away his face from the Sun-beam's, came memory to him,
and a sharp pang shot through his heart, as he heard Folk-
might say: "Where then is the Shield-may of Burgstead?
where is the Bride ?"

And Face-of-god said under his breath : " She is dead, she
is dead! " And then he stared out straight before him and
waited till someone else should say it aloud. But Bow-may
stepped forward and said: "Chief of the Wolf, be of good
cheer ; our kinswoman is hurt, but not deadly ."

The Alderman's face changed, and he said : " Hast thou
seen her, Bow-may?"

"Nay," she said. "How should I leave the battle? but
others have told me who have seen her."
Folk-might Folk-might stared into the ranks of men before him, but
hcarcth how said nothing. Said the Alderman : " Is she well tended?"
the Bndc "Yea, surely," said Bow-may, "since she is amongst

friends, and there are no foemen behind us."

Then came a voice from Folk-might which said: "Now
were it best to send good men and deft in arms, and who
know Silverdale, from house to house, to search for foemen
who may be lurking there."

The Alderman looked kindly and sadly on him and said :
" Kinsman Stone-face, and Hall-face my son, the brunt of the

350

battle is now over, and I am but a simple man amongst you ; Face-of-god
therefore, if ye will give me leave, I will go see this poor weepethfor
kinswoman of ours, and comfort her." the Bnde

They bade him go: so he sheathed his sword, and went
through the press with two men of the Steer toward the south-
ern road; for the Bride had been brought into a house nigh
the corner of the Market-place.

But Face-of-god looked after his father as he went, and
remembrance of past days came upon him, and such a storm
of grief swept over him, as he thought of the Bride lying pale
and bleeding and brought anigh to her death, that he put his
hands to his race and wept as a child that will not be comforted ;
nor had he any shame of all those bystanders, who in sooth
were men good and kindly, and had no shame of his grief or
marvelled at it, for indeed their own hearts were sore for their
lovely kinswoman, and many of them also wept with Face-
of-god. But the Sun-beam stood by and looked on her be-
trothed, and she thought many things of the Bride, and was
sorry, albeit no tears came into her eyes; then she looked
askance at Folk-might and trembled ; but he said coldly, and
in a loud voice :

" Needs must we search the houses for the lurking felons,
or many a man will yet be murdered. Let Wood-wicked lead
a band of men at once from house to house."

Then said a man of the Wolf hight Hardgrip : " Wood-
wicked was slain betwixt the bent and the houses."

Said Folk-might: "Let it be Wood-wise then."

But Bow-may said: "Wood-wise is even now hurt in the
leg by a wounded felon, and may not go afoot."

Then said Folk-might: "Is Crow the Shaft-speeder
anigh?"

" Yea, here am I," quoth a tall man of fifty winters, coming
from out the ranks where stood the Wolves.

Said Folk-might: "Kinsman Crow, do thou take two
score and ten of doughty men who are not too hot-headed,
and search every house about the Market-place; but if ye
come on any house that makes a stout defence, send ye word

3S l

'

The stair thereof to the Mote-house, where we will presently be, and
of the Mote- we shall send you help. Slay every felon that ye fall in with;
hoU8C but if ye find in the houses any of the poor folk crouching

and afraid, comfort their hearts all ye may, and tell them that

now is life come to them."

So Crow fell to getting his band together, and presently

departed with them on his errand.

CHAPTER XLVIL THE KINDREDS WIN THE
MOTE-HOUSE.

THE din and tumult still came from the north side of
the Market-place, so that all the air was full of noise;
and Face-of-god deemed that the thralls had gotten
weapons into their hands and were slaying their masters.

Now he lifted up his face,and put his hand on Folk-might's
shoulder, and said in a loud voice :

" Kinsmen, it were well if our brother were to bid the ban-
ners into the Mote-house of the Wolf, and let all the Host
set itself in array before the said house, and abide till the
chasers of the foe come to us thither; for I perceive that they
are now become many, and are more than those of our
kindred."

Then Folk-might looked at him with kind eyes, and said :
"Thou sayest well, brother; even so let it be! "
And he lifted up his sword, and Face-of-god cried out in
a loud voice: "Forward, banners! blow up horns! fare we
forth with vi&ory ! "

So the Host drew its ranks together in good order, and
they all set forward, and old Stone-face took the Sun-beam
by the hand and led on behind Folk-might and the War-
leader. But when they came to the Hall, then saw they how
the steps that led up to the door were high and double, going
up from each side without any railing or fool-guard; and
crowding the stairs and the platform thereof was a band ot
the Dusky Men, as many as could stand thereon, who shot
arrows at the host of the kindreds, howling like dogs, and
352

chattering like apes; and arrows and spears came from the Folk-might
windows of the Hall; yea, and on the very roof a score of would dear
these felons were riding the ridge and mocking like the trolls t J lc 8taur a .

c i j j ° alone, and is

of old days. gainwid.

Now when they saw this they stayed a while, and men
shielded them against the shafts ; but the leaders drew to-
gether in front of the Host, and Folk-might fell to speech;
and his face was very pale and stern ; for now he had had time
to think of the case of the Bride, and fierce wrath, and grief
unholpen filled his soul. So he said :

" Brothers, this is my business to deal with ; for I see before
me the stair that leadeth to the Mote-house of my people,
and now would I sit there whereas my fathers sat, when peace
was on the Dale, as once more it shall be to-morrow. There-
fore up this stair will I go, and none shall hinder me; and let
no man of the host follow me till I have entered into the
Hall, unless perchance I fall dead by the way ; but stand ye
still and look on."

"Nay," said Face-of-god, "this is partly the business of
the War-leader. There are two stairs. Be content to take the
southern one,and I will take the northern. We shall meet on
the plain stone at the top."

But Hall-face said: "War-leader, may I speak?"

" Speak, brother," said Face-of-god.

Said Hall-face: "I havedone but little to-day, War-leader.
I would stand by thee on the northern stair; so shall Folk-
might be content, if he doeth two men's work who are not
little-hearted."

Said Face-of-god: "The doom of the War-leader is that
Folk-might shall fall on by the southern stair to slake his
;rief and increase his glory, and Face-of-god and Hall-face
>y the northern. Haste to the work, O brothers! "

And he and Hall- face went to their places, while all looked
on. But the Sun-beam, with her hand still in Stone-face's,
she turned white to the lips, and stared with wild eyes before
her, not knowing where she was ; for she had deemed that the
battle was over, and Face-of-god saved from it.

xv. aa 353

Folk-might's But Folk-might tossed up his head and laughed, and cried
onslaughtat out, "At last, at last!" And his sword was in his hand, the
the stair Sleep-thorn to wit, a blade of ancient fame ; so now he let it fall
and hang to his wrist by the leash, while he clapped his hands
together and uttered the Wolf-whoop mightily, and all the
men of the Wolf that were in the host, and the Woodlanders
withal, uttered it with him. Then he put his shield over his
head and stood before the first of the steps, and the Dusky
Men laughed to see one man come against them, though
there was death in their hearts. But he laughed back at
them in triumph, and set his foot on the step, and let Sleep-
thorn's point go into the throat of a Dusky lord, and thrust
amongst them, hewing right and left, and tumbling men
over the edge of the stair, which was to them as the narrow
path along the cliff-side that hangeth over the unfathomed
sea. They hewed and thrust at him in turn ; but so close were
they packed that their weapons crossed about him, and one
shielded him from the other, and they swayed staggering on
that fearful verge, while the Sleep-thorn crept here and there
amongst them, lulling their hot fury. For, as desperate as
they were, and fighting for death and not for life, they had a
horror of him and of the sea of hatred below them, and feared
where to set their feet, and he feared nought at all, but from
feet to sword-point was but an engine of slaughter, while the
heart within him throbbed with fury long held back as he
thought upon the Bride and her wounding, and all the
wrongs of his people since their Great Undoing.

So he smote and thrust, till him-seemed the throng of
foes thinned before him : with his sword-pommel he smote a
lord of the Dusky Ones in the face, so that he fell over the
edge amongst the spears of the kindred; then he thrust the
point of Sleep-thorn towards the Hall-door through * the
breast of another, and then it seemed to him that he had but
one before him ; so he hove up the edges to cleave him down,
but ere the stroke fell, close to his ears exceeding loud rang
out the cry, "For the Burg and the Face! for the Face, for
the Face!" and he drew aback a little, and his eyes cleared,

354

and lo! it was Hall-face the tall, his long sword all reddened TheMote-
with battle; and beside him stood Face-of-god, silent and home in
panting, his face pale with the fierce anger of the fight, and ^ casc
the weariness which was now at last gaining upon him. There
stood those three with no other living man upon the plain
of the stairs.

Then Face-of-god turned shouting to the Folk, and cried :

"Forth now with the banners! For now is the Wolf come
home. On into the Hall, O Kindred of the Gods!"

Then poured the Folk up over the stairs and into the Hall
of the Wolf, the banners flapping over their heads; and first
went the War-leader and Folk-might and Hall-face, and
then the three delivered thralls, Wolf-stone, God-swain,
and Spear-fist, and Dallach with them, though both he and
Wolf-stone had been hurt in the battle ; and then came blend-
ed together the Men of the Face along with them of the
Wolfwho had entered the Market-stead with them, and
with these were Stone-face and Wood-wont and Bow-may,
leading the Sun-beam betwixt them ; and now was she come
to herself again, though her face was yet pale, and her eyes
gleamed as she stepped across the threshold of the Hall.

But when a many were gotten in, and the first-comers had
had time to handle their weapons and look about them, a cry
of the utmost wrath broke from Folk-might and those others
who remembered the Hall from of old. For wretched and
befouled was that well-builded house: the hangings rent
away; the goodly painted walls daubed and smeared with
wicked tokens of the Alien murderers: the floor, once bright
with polished stones of the mountain, and strewn with sweet-
smelling flowers, was now as foul as the den of the man-de-
vouring troll of the heaths. From the fair-carven roof of oak
and chestnut-beams hung ugly knots of rags and shapeless
images of the sorcery of the Dusky Men. And furthermore,
andabove all, from the last tie-beam of theroof over the dais
dangled four shapes of men-at-arms, whom the older men
of the Wolf knew at once for the embalmed bodies of their
four great chieftains, who had been slain on the day of the
aa2 355

Host

The end of Great Undoing ; and they cried out with horror and rage as
the Dusky they saw them hanging there in their weapons as they had

lived.

There was the Hostage of the Earth, his shield painted
with the green world circled with the worm of the sea. There
was the older Folk-might, the uncle of the living man, bear-
ing a shield with an oak and a lion done thereon. There was
Wealth-eker, on whose shield was done a golden sheaf of
wheat. There was he who bore a name great from of old.
Folk-wolf to wit, bearing on his shield the axe of the hewer.
There they hung, dusty, befouled, with sightless eyes and
grinning mouths, in the dimmed sunlight or the Hall, before
the eyes of that victorious Host, stricken silent at the sight
of them.

Underneath them on the dais stood the last remnant of the
battle of the Dusky Men ; and they, as men mad with coming
death, shook their weapons, and with shrieking laughter
mocked at the overcomers, and pointed to the long-dead
chiefs, and called on them in the tongue of the kindreds to
come down and lead their dear kinsmen to the high-seat ; and
then they cried out to the living warriors of the Wolf, and
bade them better their deed of slaying, and set to work to
make alive again, and cause their kinsmen to live merry on
the earth.

With that last mock they handled their weapons and
rushed howling on the warriors to meet their death; nor was
it long denied them; for the sword of the Wolf, theaxeof the
Woodland, and the spear of the Dale soon made an end of the
dreadful lives of these destroyers of the Folks.

CHAPTER XLVIII. MEN SING IN THE MOTE-
HOUSE.

THEN strode the Warriors of the Wolf over the bodies
of the slain on to the dais of their own Hall ; and Folk-
might led the Sun-beam by the hand, and now was his
sword in its sheath, and his face was grown calm, though it

356

was stern and sad. But even as he trod the dais comes a slim Folk-might
swain of the Wolves twisting himself through the throng, gladdened by
and so maketh way to Folk-might, and sai th to him : S 00 * tidin &

" Chieftain, the Alderman of Burgdale sendeth me hither
to say a word to thee ; even this, which I am to tell to thee and
the War-leader both : It is most true that our kinswoman the
Bride will not die, but live. So help me, the Warrior and the
Face! This is the word of the Alderman."

When Folk-might heard this, his face changed and he
hung his head; and Face-of-god, who was standing close by,
beheld him and deemed that tears were falling from his eyes
on to the hall-floor. As for him, he grew exceeding glad, and
he turned to the Sun-beam and met her eyes, and saw that
she could scarce refrain her longing for him; and he was
abashed for the sweetness of his love. But she drew close up
to him, and spake to him softly and said:

"This is the day that maketh amends; and yet I long for
another day. When I saw thee coming to me that first day in
Shadowy Vale, I thought thee so goodly a warrior that my
heart was in my mouth. But now how goodly thou art! For
the battle is over, and we shall live."

"Yea," said Face-of-god, "and none shall begrudge us
our love. Behold thy brother, the hard-heart, the warrior;
he weepeth because he hath heard that the Bride shall live.
Be sure then that she shall not gainsay him. O fair shall the
world be to-morrow! "

But she said : " O Gold-mane, I have no words. Is there no
minstrelsy amongst us?"

Now by this time were many of the men of the Wolf and
the Woodlanders gathered on the dais of the Hall; and the
Dalesmen noting this, and wotting that these men were now
in their own Mote-house, withdrew them as they might for
the press toward the nether end thereof. That the Sun-beam
noted, and that all those about her save the War-leader were
of the kindreds of the Wolf and the Woodland, and, still
speaking softly, she said to Face-of-god :

" Gold-mane, meseemeth I am now in my wrong place ;

357

Now they for now the Wolf raiseth up his head, but I am departing
« n 8 from him. Surely I should now be standing amongst my

people of the Face, whereto I am going ere long."

He said: "Beloved, I am now become thy kindred and
thine home, it is meet for thee to stand beside me."

She cast her eyes adown and answered not; and she fell a-
pondering of how sorely she had desired that fair dale, and
now she would leave it, and be content and more than con-
tent.

But now the kindreds had sundered, they upon the dais
ranked themselves together there in the House which their
fathers had builded ; and when they saw themselves so meetly
ordered, their hearts being full with the sweetness of hope
accomplished and the joy of deliverance from death, song
arose amongst them, and they fell to singing together; and
this is somewhat of their singing:

Now raise we the lay

Of the long-coming day!

Bright, white was the sun

When we saw it begun :

O'er its noon now we live;

It hath ceased not to give;

It shall give, and give more

From the wealth of its store.
O fair was the yesterday 1 Kindly and good
Was the wasteland our guester, and kind was the wood ;
Though below us for reaping lay under our hand
The harvest of weeping, the grief of the land;
Dumb cowered the sorrow, nought daring to cry
On the help of to-morrow, the deed drawing nigh.

All increase throve
In the Dale of our love;
There the ox and the steed
Fed down the mead ;
The grapes hung high
'Twixt earth and sky,

358

And the apples fell They sing of

Round the orchard well, the Dale

Yet drear was the land there, and all was for nought ; enthralled
None put forth a hand there for what the year wrought,
And raised it o'erflowing with gifts of the earth.
For man's grief was growing beside of the mirth
Ofthespringsandthesummersthatwastedtheirwealth;
And the birds, the new-comers, made merry by stealth.

Yet here of old

Abode the bold;

Nor had they wailed

Though the wheat had failed,

And tne vine no more

Gave forth her store.

Yea, they found the waste good

For the fearless of mood.
Then to these, that were dwelling aloof from the Dale,
Fared the wild- wind a-telling the worst of the tale ;
As men bathed in the morning they saw in the pool
The image of scorning, the throne of the fool.
The picture was gleaming in helm and in sword,
And shone forth its seeming from cups of the board.

Forth then they came

With the battle-flame;

From the Wood and the Waste

And the Dale did they haste:

They saw the storm rise,

And with untroubled eyes

The war-storm they met;

And the rain ruddy-wet.
O'er the Dale then was litten the Candle of Day,
Night-sorrow was smitten, and gloom fled away.
How the grief-shackles sunder! How many to morn
Shall awaken and wonder how gladness was born I
O wont unto sorrow, how sweet unto you
Shall be pondering to-morrow what deed is to do!

359

They sing of Fell many a man

their slain • Neath the edges wan,

In the heat of the play

That fashioned the day.

Praise all ye then

The death of men,

And the gift of the aid

Of the unafraid I
O strong are the living men mighty to save,
And good is their giving, and gifts that we have!
But the dead, they that gave us once, never again;
Long and long shall they save us sore trouble and pain.
O Banner above us, O God of the strong,
Love them as ye love us that bore down our wrong!

So they sang in the Hall ; and there was many a man wept,
as the song ended, for those that should never see the good
days of the Dale, and all the joy that was to be; and men
swore, by all that they loved, that they would never forget
those that had fallen in the Winning of Silverdale; and that
when each year the Cups of Memory went round, they should
be no mere names to them, but the very men whom they had
known and loved.

CHAPTER XLIX. DALLACH FARETH TO ROSE-
DALE: CROW TELLETH OF HIS ERRAND: THE
KINDREDS EAT THEIR MEAT IN SILVERDALE.

NOW Dallach, who had gone away for a while, came
back again into the Hall; and at his back were a halt
score of men who bore ladders with them : they were
stout men, clad in scanty and ragged raiment, but girt with
swords and bearing axes, those of them who were not hand-
ling the ladders. Men looked on them curiously, because
they saw them to be of the roughest of the thralls. They
were sullen and fierce-eyed to behold, and their hands and
bare arms were flecked with blood ; and it was easy to see that
360

they had been chasing the fleers, and making them pay for Dallach
their many torments of past days. would follow

But when Face-of-god beheld this he cried out: "Ho, Jj^onthe
Dallach! is it so that thou hast bethought thee to bring in ten
hither men to fall to the cleansing of the Hall, and to do
away the defiling of the Dusky Men?"

" Even so, War-leader," said Dallach ; " also ye shall know
that all battle is over in Silver-stead; for the thralls fell in
numbers not to be endured on the Dusky Men who had
turned their backs to us, and hindered them from fleeing
north. But though they have slain many, they have not slain
all, and the remnant have fled by divers ways westaway, that
they may gain the wood and the ways to Rosedale; and the
stoutest of the thralls are at their heels, and ever as they go
fresh men from the fields join in the chase with great joy. I
have gathered together of the best of them two hundreds
and a half well-armed; and if thou wilt give me leave, I will
get to me yet more, and follow hard on the fleers, and so get
me home to Rosedale; for thither will these runaways to
meet whatso of their kind may be left there. Also I would
fain be there to set some order amongst the poor folk of
mine own people, whom this day's work hath delivered from
torment. And if thou wilt suffer a few men of the Dalesmen
to come along with me, then shall all things be better done
there."

"Luck go with thine hands I" said Face-of-god. "Take
whomso thou wilt of the Burgdalers that have a mind to fare
with thee to the number of five score; and send word of thy
thriving to Folk-might, the chieftain of the Dale; as for us,
meseemeth that we shall abide here no long while. How
say est thou, Folk-might, shall Dallach go? "

Then Folk-might, who stood close beside him, looked up
and reddened somewhat, as a man caught heedless when he
should be heedful; but he looked kindly on Face-of-god,
and said :

" War-leader, so long as thou art in the Dale which ye
kindreds have won back for us, thou art the chieftain, and

361

Folk-might no other, and I bid thee do as thou wilt in this matter, and in
would go an all things ; and I hereby give command to all my kindred to
errand ^ Q accQ rding to thy will everywhere and always, as they love

me; and indeed I deem that thy will shall be theirs; since it
is only fools who know not their well-wishers. How say ye,
kinsmen?"

Then those about cried out: " Hail to Face-of-god! Hail
to the Dalesmen I Hail to our friends! "

But Folk-might went up to Face-of-god, and threw his
arms about him and kissed him, and he said therewithal, so
that most men heard him :

"Herewith I kiss not only thee, thou goodly and glorious
warrior! but this kiss and embrace is for all the men of the
kindreds of the Dale and the Shepherds; since I deem that
never have men more valiant dwelt upon the earth."

Therewith all men shouted for joy of him, and were ex-
ceeding glad; but Folk-might spake apart to Face-of-god
and said : " Brother, I suppose that thou wilt deem it good to
abide in this Hall or anigh it ; for hereabouts now is the heart
of the Host. But as for me, I would have leave to depart for a
little; since I have an errand, whereof thou mayest wot."

Then Face-of-god smiled on him, and said : " Go, and all
good go with thee; and tell my father that I would have
tidings, since I may not be there." So he spake; yet in his
heart was he glad that he might not go to behold the Bride
lying sick and sorry. But Folk-might departed without more
words; and in the door of the Hall he met Crow the Shaft-
speeder, who would have spoken to him, and given him the
tidings; but Folk-might said to him: "Do thine errand to
the War-leader, who is within the Hall." And so went on his
way.

Then came Crow up the Hall, and stood before Face-of-
;od and said: <c War-leader, we have done that which was to
>e done, and have cleared all the houses about the Market-
stead. Moreover, by the rede of Dallach we have set certain
men of the poor folk of the Dale, who are well looked to by
the others, to the burying of the slain Felons ; and they be
362

digging trenches in the fields on the north side of the Market- Crow telleth
stead, and carry the carcasses thither as they may. But the ?*" thc clcar -
slain whom they find of the kindreds do they array out yonder ln 8 oftllc

/ 000 f)f\flA4fcQ

before this Hall. In all wise are these men tame and biddable,
save that they rage against the Dusky Men, though they fear
them yet. As for us, they deem us Gods come down from
heaven to help them. So much for what is good: now have I
an ill word to say ; to wit, that in the houses whereas we have
found many thralls alive, yet also have we found many dead ;
for amongst these murder-carles were some of an evil sort,
who, when they saw that the battle would go against them,
rushed into the houses hewing down all before them — man,
woman, and child; so that many of the halls and chambers
we saw running blood like to shambles. To be short: of them
whom they were going to hew to the Gods, we have found
thirteen living and three dead, of which latter is one woman ;
and of the living, seven women ; and all these, living and
dead, with the leaden shackles yet on them wherein they
should be burned. To all these and others whom we have
found, we have done what of service we could in the way of
vi&ual and clothes, so that they scarce believe that they are
on this lower earth. Moreover, I have with me two score of
them, who are men of some wits, and who know of the stores
of viftualand other wares which the felons had, and these will
fetch and carry for you as much as ye will. Is all done rightly,
War-leader?"

" Right well," said Face-of-god, " and we give thee our
thanks therefor. And now it were well if these thy folk were
to dight our dinner for us in some green field the nighest that
may be, and thither shall all the Host be bidden by sound of
horn. Meantime, let us void this Hall till it be cleansed of the
filth of the Dusky Ones; but hereafter shall we come again
to it, and light a fire on the Holy Hearth, and bid the Gods
and the Fathers come back and behold their children sitting
glad in the ancient Hall."

Then men shouted and were exceeding joyous; but Face-
of-god said once more : " Bear ye a bench out into the Market-

363

The tale of place over against the door of this Hall: thereon will I sit
thosewhofell with other chieftains of the kindreds, that whoso will may
in the battle have recourse to us."

So therewith all the men of the kindreds made their ways
out of the Hall and into the Market-stead, which was by this
time much cleared of the slaughtered felons; and the bale
for the burnt-offering was now but smouldering, and a thin
column of blue smoke was going up wavering amidst the
light airs of the afternoon. Men were somewhat silent now;
for they were stiffand weary with the morning's battle; and a
many had been hurt withal; and on many there yet rested the
after-grief of battle, and sorrow for the loss of friends and
well-wishers.

For in the battle had fallen one long hundred and two of
the men of the Host ; and of these were two score and five of
the kindreds of the Steer, the Bull, and the Bridge, who had
made such valiant onslaught by the southern road. Of the
Shepherds died one score save three ; for though they scatter-
ed the foe at once, yet they fell on with such headlong valour,
rather than wisely, that many were trapped in the throng of
the Dusky Men. Of the Woodlanders were slain one score
and nine; for hard had been the fight about them, and no man
of them spared himself one whit. Of the men of the Wolf,
who were but a few, fell sixteen men, and all save two of these
in Face-of-god's battle. Of the Burgdale men whom Folk-
might led, to wit, them of the Face, the Vine, and the Sickle,
were but seven men slain outright. In this tale are told all
those who died of their hurts after the day of battle. There-
withal many others were sorely hurt who mended, and went
about afterwards hale and hearty.
The horns So as the folk abode in the Market-place, somewhat faint

blow to and weary, they heard horns blow up merrily, and Crow the

dinner Shaft-speeder came forth and stood on the mound of the

altar, and bade men fare to dinner, and therewith he led the
way, bearing in his hand the banner of the Golden Bushel, of
which House he was ; and they followed him into a fair and
great mead on the south-west of Silver-stead, besprinkled

364

about with ancient trees of sweet chestnut. There they found They make
the boards spread for them with the best of viftual which the * hc P°° r folk
poor down-trodden folk knew how to dight for them ; and fca8t
especially was there great plenty of good wine of the sun-
smitten bents.

So they fell to their meat, and the poor folk, both men and
women, served them gladly, though they were somewhat
afeard of these fierce sword-wielders, the Gods who had de-
livered them. The said thralls were mostly not of those who
had fallen so bitterly on their fleeing masters, but were men
and women of the households, not so roughly treated as the
others, that is to say, those who had been wont to toil under
the lash in the fields and the silver-mines, and were as wild as
they durst be.

As for these waiting- thralls, the men of the kindreds were
gentle and blithe with them, and often as they served them
would they stay their hands (and especially if they were
women), and would draw down their heads to put a morsel
in their mouths, or set the wine-cup to their lips; and they
would stroke them and caress them, and treat them in all wise
as their dear friends. Moreover, when any man was full, he
would arise and take hold of oneof the thralls, and set him in
his place, and serve him with meat and drink, and talk with
him kindly, so that the poor folkwere much bewildered with
joy. And the first that arose from table were the Sun-beam
and Bow-may and Hall-face, with many of the swains and
the women of the Woodlandersjand they went from table to
table serving the others.

The Sun-beam had done off her armour, and went about
exceeding fair and lovely in her kirtle; but Bow-may yet bore
her hauberk, for she loved it, and indeed it was so fine and
well- wrought that it was nogreat burden. Albeit she had gone
down with the Sun-beam and other women to a fair stream
thereby, and there had they bathed and washed themselves ;
and Bow-may's hurts, which were not great, had been looked
to and bound up afresh, and she had come to table unhelmed,
with a wreath of wind-flowers round her head.

365

[Face-of-god There then they feasted; and their hearts were strength-
pondereth] ene( i by the meat and drink; and if sorrowwere blended with
their joy, yet were they high-hearted through both joy and
sorrow, looking forward to the good days to be in the Dales
at the Roots or the Mountains, and the love and fellowship
of Folks and of Houses.

But as for Face-of-god, he went not to the meadow, but
abode sitting on the bench in the Market-place, where were
none else now of the kindreds save the appointed warders.
They had brought him a morsel and acupof wine, and hehad
eaten and drunk; and now he sat there with Dale-warden
lying sheathed across his knees, and seeming to gaze on the
thralls of Silverdale busied in carrying away the bodies of
the slain felons, after they had stripped them of their raiment
and weapons. Yet indeed all this was before his eyes as a
picture which he noted not. Rather he sat pondering many
things; wondering at his being there in Silverdale in the
hour of viftory; longing for the peace of Burgdale and the
bride-chamber of the Sun-beam. Then went his thought out
toward his old playmate lying hurt in Silverdale; and his
heart was grieved because of her, yet not for long, though
his thought still dwelt on her ; si nee he deemed that she would
live and presently be happy — and happy thenceforward for
many years. So pondered Face-of-god in the Market-place
of Silverdale.

CHAPTER L. FOLK-MIGHT SEETH THE BRIDE
AND SPEAKETH WITH HER.

NOW tells the tale of Folk-might, that he went his
ways from the Hall to the house where the Bride
lay ; and the swain who had brought the message went
along with him, and he was proud of walking beside so mighty
a warrior, and he talked to Folk-might as they went ; and the
sound of his voice was irksome to the chieftain, but he made
as though he hearkened. Yet when they came to the door of
the house, which was just out of the Place on*the Southern
366

road (for thereby had the Bride fallen to earth), he could The grief of
withhold his grief no longer, but turned on the threshold Folk-might
and laid his head on the door-jamb, and sobbed and wept till
the tears fell down like rain. And the bov stood by wonder-
ing, and wishing that Folk-might would forbear weeping,
but durst not speak to him.

In a while Folk-might left weeping and went in, and found
a fair hall sore befouled by the felons, and in the corner on a
bed covered with furs the wounded woman ; and at first sight
he deemed her not so pale as he looked to see her, as she lay
with her long dark-red hair strewed over the pillow, her head
moving about wearily. A linen cloth was thrown over her
body, but her arms lay out of it before her. Beside her sat the
Alderman, his face sober enough, but not as one in heavy
sorrow; and anigh him was another chair as if someone had
but just got up from it. There was no one else in the hall save
two women of the Woodlanders, one of whom was cooking
some potion on the hearth, and another was sweeping the
floor anigh of bran or some such stuff, which had been thrown
down to sop up the blood.

So Folk-might went up to the Bride, sorely dreading the
image of death which she had grown to be, and sorely loving
the woman she was and would be.

He knelt down by the bedside, heeding Iron-face little, The Bride
though he nodded friendly to him, and he held his face close «ckyetscarce
to hers; but she had her eyes shut and did not open them till 8orry
he had been there a little while; and then they opened and
fixed themselves on his without surprise or change. Then
she lifted her right hand (for it was in her left shoulder and
side that she had been hurt) and slowly laid it on his head,
and drew his face to hers and kissed it fondly, as she both
smiled and let the tears run over from her eyes. Then she
spake in a weak voice :

"Thou seest, chieftain and dear friend, that I may not
stand by thy victorious side to-day. And now, though I were
fain if thou wouldst never leave me, yet needs must thou go
about thy work, since thou art become the Alderman of the

367

They plight

troth

together

Folk of Silverdale.Yea,and even if thou wert not to go from
me, yet in a manner should I go from thee. For I am griev-
ously hurt, and I know by myself, and also the leeches have
told me, that the fever is a-coming on me; so that presently
I shall not know thee, but may deem thee to be a woman, or
a hound, or the very Wolf that is the image of the Father of
thy kindred ; or even, it may be, someone else — that I have
played with time agone."

Her voice faltered and faded out here, and she was silent
a while ; then she said :

" So depart, kind friend and dear love, bearing this word
with thee, that should I die, I call on Iron-face my kinsman
to bear witness that I bid thee carry me to bale in Silverdale,
and lay mine ashes with the ashes of thy Fathers, with whom
thine own shall mingle at the last, since I have been of the
warriors who have helped to bring thee aback to the land of
thy folk."

Then she smiled and shut her eyes and said : "And if I live,
as i ndeed I hope, and how glad and glad I shall be to live, then
shalt thou bring me to thy house and thy bed, that I may not
depart from thee while both our lives last."

And she opened her eyes and looked at him ; and he might
not speak for a while, so ravished as he was betwixt joy and
sorrow. But the Alderman arose and took a gold ring from
off his arm, and spake :

"This is the gold ring of the God of the Face, and I bear
it on mine arm betwixt the Folk and the God in all man-
motes, and I bore it through the battle to-day; and it is as
holy a ring as maybe; and since ye are plighting troth, and I
am the witness thereof, it were good that ye held this ring
together and called the God to witness, who is akin to the
God of the Earth, as we all be. Take the ring, Folk-might,
for I trust thee; and of all women now alive would I have
this woman happy."

So Folk-might took the ring and thrust his hand through
it, and took her hand, and said :

" Ye Fathers, thou God of the Face, thou Earth-god, thou
368

Warrior, bear witness that my life and my body are plighted Folk-might
to this woman, the Bride of the House of the Steer ! ' ' l<*veth her

His face was flushed and bright as he spoke, but as his
wordsceased he noted how feebly her hand lay in his, and his
face fell, and he gazed on her timidly. But she lay quiet, and
said softly and slowly :

"O Fathers of my kindred! O Warrior and God of the
Earth ! bear witness that I plight my troth to this man, to lie
in his grave if I die, and in his bed if I live."

And she smiled on him again, and then closed her eyes;
but opened them presently once more, and said:

"Dear friend, how fared it with Gold-mane to-day?"

Said Folk-might: "So well he did, that none might have
done better. Herared in the fight as if hehad been our Father
the Warrior: he is a great chieftain."

She said: "Wilt thou give him this message from me,
that in no wise he forget the oath which he swore upon the
finger-ring as it lay on the sundial of the Garden of the Face ?
And say, moreover, that I am sorry that we shall part, and
have between us such breadth of wild-wood and mountain-
neck."

"Yea, surely will I give thy message," said Folk-might;
and in his heart he rejoiced, because he heard her speak as if
she were sure of life. Then she said faintly :

" It is now thy work to depart from me, and to do as it be-
hoveth a chieftain of the people and the Alderman of Silver-
dale. Depart, lest the leeches chide me: farewell, my dear! "

So he laid his face to hers and kissed her, and rose up and
embraced Iron-face, and went his ways without looking back.

But just over the threshold he met old Hall-ward of the
House of the Steer, who was at point to enter, and he greeted
him kindly. The old man looked on him steadily, and said:
"To-morrow or the day after I will utter a word to thee, O
Chief of the Wolf."

" In agood hour," said Folk-might, " for all thy words are
true."

Therewith he gat him away from the house, and came to
xv. bb 369

The burial of Face-of-god, where he sat before the altar of the Crooked

the dead Sword ; and now were the chiefs come back from their meat,

and were sitting with him ; there also were Wood-father and

Wood-wont ; but Bow-may was with the Sun-beam, who was

resting softly in the fair meadow after all the turmoil.

So men made place for Folk-might beside the War-leader,
who looked upon his face, and saw that it was sober and un-
smiling, but not heavy or moody with grief. So he deemed
that all was as well as it might be with the Bride, and with a
good heart fell to taking counsel with the others; and kindly
and friendly were the redes which they held there, with no
gainsaying of man by man, for the whole folk was glad at
heart.

So there they ordered all matters duly for that present
time, and by then they had made an end, it was past sunset,
and men were lodged in the chief houses about the Market-
stead.

Albeit, though they ate their meat with all joy of heart,
and were merry in converse one with the other, the men of
the Wolf would by no means feast in their Hall again till it
had been cleansed and hallowed anew.

CHAPTER LI. THE DEAD BORNE TO BALE : THE
MOTE-HOUSE RE-HALLOWED.

ON the morrow they bore to bale their slain men, and
therewithal what was left of the bodies of the four
chieftains of the Great Undoing. They brought them
into a most fair meadow to the west of Silver-stead, where
they had piled up a very great bale for the burning. In that
meadow was the Doom-ring and Thing-stead of the Folk of
the Wolf, and they had hallowed it when they had first
conquered Silverdale, and it was deemed far holier than the
Mote-houseaforesaid, wherein the men ofthe kindred might
hold no due court; but rather it was a Feast-hall, and a house
where men had converse together, and wherein precious
things and tokens ofthe Fathers were stored up.

370

The Thing-stead in the meadow was flowery and well- The Song of
grassed, and alittle stream winding about thereby nearly cast returning
a ring around it; and beyond the stream was a full fair grove
of oak-trees, very tall and ancient. There then they burned
the dead of the Host, wrapped about in exceeding fair rai-
ment. And when the ashes were gathered, the men of Burg-
dale and the Shepherds left those of their folk for the kin-
dred to bury there in Silverdale; for they said that they had
a right to claim such guesting for them that had helped to
win back the Dale.

But when the Burning was done and the bale quenched,
and the ashes gathered and buried (and that was on the
morrow), then men bore forth the Banners of the Jaws of
the Wolf, and the Red Hand, and the Silver Arm, and the
Golden Bushel, and the Ragged Sword, and the Wolf of the
Woodland; and with great joy and triumph they brought
them into the Mote-house and hung them up over the dais;
and they kindled fire on the Holy Hearth by holding up a
disk of bright glass to the sun ; and then they sang before the
banners. And this is somewhat of the song that they sang
before them :

Why are ye wending? O whence and whither?

What shineth over the fallow swords?
What is the joy that ye bear in hither?

What is the tale of your blended words?

No whither we wend, but here have we stayed us,

Here by the ancient Holy Hearth;
Long have the moons and the years delayed us,

But here are we come from the heart of the dearth.

We are the men of joy belated;

We are the wanderers over the waste;
We are but they that sat and waited,

Watching the empty winds make haste.

bb2 371

The Song of Long, long we sat and knew no others,

returning Save alien folk and the foes of the road ;

Till late and at last we met our brothers,
And needs must we to the old abode.

For once on a day they prayed for guesting;

And how were we then their bede to dor
Wild was the waste for the people's resting,

And deep the wealth of the Dale we knew.

Here were the boards that we must spread them
Down in the fruitful Dale and dear;

Here were the halls where we would bed them :
And how should we tarry otherwhere?

Over the waste we came together :
There was the tangle athwart the way;

There was the wind-storm and the weather;
The red rain darkened down the day.

But that day of the days what grief should let us,
When we saw through the clouds the dale-glad sun?

We tore at the tangle that beset us,

And stood at peace when the day was done.

Hall of the Happy, take our greeting!

Bid thou the Fathers come and see
The Folk-signs on thy walls a-meeting,

And deem to-day what men we be.

Look on the Holy Hearth new-litten,
How the sparks fly twinkling up aloof 1

How the wavering smoke by the sunlight smitten,
Curls up around the beam-rich roof!

For here once more is the Wolf abiding,
Nor ever more from the Dale shall wend,

And never again his head be hiding,

Till all days be dark and the world have end.

37*

CHAPTER LII. OF THE NEW BEGINNING OF
GOOD DAYS IN SILVERDALE.

ON the third day there was high-tide and great joy Men merry
amongst all men from end to end of the Dale ; and the in Silverdale
delivered thralls were feasted and made much of by
the kindreds, so that they scarce knew how to believe their
own five senses that told them the good tidings.

For none strove to grieve them and torment them ; what The wealth
they would, that did they, and they had all things plente- of Silverdale
ously; since for all was there enough and to spare of goods
stored up for the Dusky Men, as corn and wine and oil and
spices, and raiment and silver. Horses were there also, and
neat and sheep and swine in abundance. Withal there was the
good and dear land; the waxing corn on the acres; the blos-
soming vines on the hill-side; and about the orchards and
alongside the ways, the plum-trees and cherry-trees and
pear-trees that had cast their blossom and were overhung
with little young fruit; and the fair apple-trees a-biossom-
ing, and the chestnuts spreading their boughs from their
twisted trunks over the green grass. And there was the
goodly pasture for the horses and the neat, and the thymy
hill-grass for the sheep; and beyond it all, the thicket of the
great wood, with its unfailing store of goodly timber of ash
and oak and holly and yoke-elm. There need no man lack
unless man compelled him, and all was rich enough and wide
enough for the waxing of a very great folk.

Now, therefore, men betook them to what was their own
before the coming of the Dusky Men; and though at first
many of the delivered thrall-folk feasted somewhat above
measure, and though there were some of them who were not
very brisk at working on the earth for their livelihood; yet
were the most part of them quick of wit and deft of hand,
and they mostly fell to presently at their cunning, both of
husbandry and handicraft. Moreover, they had great love of
the kindreds, and especially of the Woodlanders, and strove
to do all things that might pleasure them. And as for those

373

Hall-ward who were dull and listless because of their many torments of
cometh to the last ten years, they would at least fetch and carry willingly
Folk-might f or them of the kindreds; and these last grudged them not

meat and raiment and house-room, even if they wrought
but little for it, because they called to mind the evil days of
their thralldom, and bethought them how few are men's days
upon the earth.

Thus all things throve in Silverdale, and the days wore
on toward the summer, and the Yule-tide rest beyond it,
and the years beyond and far beyond the winning of Silver-
dale.

CHAPTER LIIL OF THE WORD WHICH HALL-
WARD OFTHE STEER HAD FOR FOLK-MIGHT.

BUT of the time then passing, it is to be said that the
whole host abode in Silverdale in great mirth and
good liking, till they should hear tidings of Dallach
and his company, who had followed hot-foot on the fleers of
the Dusky Men. And on the tenth day after the battle, Iron-
face and his two sons and Stone-face were sitting about sunset
under a great oak-tree by that stream-side which ran through
the Mote-stead; there also was Folk-might, somewhat dis-
traught because of his lovefor the Bride, who was now mend-
ing of her hurts. As they sat there in all content they saw folk
coming toward them, three in number, and as they drew
nigher they saw that it was old Hall-ward of the Steer, and
the Sun-beam and Bow-may following him hand in hand.

When they came to the brook Bow-may ran up to the
elder to help him over the stepping-stones; which she did as
one who loved him, as the old man was stark enough to have
waded the water waist-deep. She was no longer in her war-
gear, but was clad after her wont of Shadowy Vale, in nought
but a white woollen kirtle. So she stood in the stream beside
the stones, and let the swift water ripple up over her ankles,
while the elder leaned on her shoulder and looked down
upon her kindly. The Sun-beam followed after them, step-

374

ping daintily from stone to stone, so that she was a fair sight They talk of
to see; her race was smiling and happy, and as she stepped the Bride
forth on to the green grass the colour flushed up in it, but
she cast her eyes adown as one somewhat shamefaced.

So the chieftains rose up before the leader of the Steer, and
Folk-might went up to him, and greeted him, and took his
hand and kissed him on the cheek. And Hall-ward said:

"Hail to the chiefs of the kindred, and my earthly
friends!"

Then Folk-might bade him sit down by him, and all
the men sat down again; but the Sun-beam leaned her back
against a sapling ash hard by, her feet set close together; and
Bow-may went to and fro in short turns, keeping well within
ear-shot.

Then said Hall-ward: "Folk-might, I have prayed thy
kinswoman Bow-may to lead me to thee, that I might speak
with thee; and it is good that I find my kinsmen ofthe Face
in thy company ; for I would say a word to thee that concerns
them somewhat."

Said Folk-might: "Guest, and warrior ofthe Steer, thy
words are ever good; and if this time thou comest to ask
aught of me, then shall they be better than good."

Said Hall-ward: "Tell me, Folk-might, hast thou seen
my daughter the Bride to-day? "

"Yea," said Folk-might, reddening.

"What didst thou deem of her state?" said Hall-ward.

Said Folk-might : " Thou knowest thyself that the fever
hath left her, and that she is mending."

Hall-ward said: "In a few days belike we shall be wend-
ing home to Burgdale: when deemest thou that the Bride
may travel, if it were but on a litter? "

Folk-might was silent, and Hall-ward smiled on him and
said : " Wouldst thou have her tarry, O chief of the Wolf? "

" So it is," said Folk-might, " that it might be labour lost
for her to journey to Burgdale at present.'

"Thinkest thou?" said Hall-ward; "hast thou a mind
then that if she goeth she shall speedily come back hither? "

375

Hall-ward " It has been in my mind," said Folk-might, " that I should
askethaprice we d her. Wilt thou gainsay it? I pray thee, Iron-face my
for the Bride friend, and ye Stone-face and Hall-face, and thou, Face-of-
god, my brother, to lay thy words to mine in this matter/'

Then said Hall-ward stroking his beard: "There will be
a seat missing in the Hall of the Steer, and a sore lack in the
heart of many a man in Burgdale if the Bride come back to
us no more. We looked not to lose the maiden by her wed-
ding; for it is no long way betwixt the House of the Steer
and the House of the Face. But now, when I arise in the
morning and miss her, I shall take my staff and walk down
the street of Burgstead; for I shall say, The Maiden hath
gone to see Iron-race my friend; she is well in the House ot
the Face. And then shall I remember how that the wood and
the wastes lie between us. How sayest thou, Alderman?"

" A sore lack it will be," said Iron-face; "but all good go
with herl Though whiles shall I go hatless down Burgstead
street, and say, Now will I go fetch my daughter the Bride
from the House of the Steer; while many a day's journey
shall lie betwixt us."

Said Hall- ward : " I will not beat about the bush, Folk-
might; what gift wilt thou give us for the maiden?"

Said Folk-might: "Whatever is mine shall be thine; and
whatsoever of the Dale the kindred and the poor folk be-
grudge thee not, that shalt thou have ; and deemest thou that
they will begrudge thee aught? Is it enough? "

Hall-ward said: "I wot not, chieftain; see thou to it I
Bow-may, my friend, bring hither that which I would have
from Silverdale for the House of the Steer in payment for
our maiden."

Then Bow-may came forward speedily, and went up to
the Sun-beam, and led her by the hand in front of Folk-
might and Hall-ward and the other chieftains. Then Folk-
might started, and leapt up from the ground; for, sooth to
say, he had been thinking so wholly of the Bride, that his
sister was not in his mind, and he had had no deeming of
whither Hall-ward was coming, though the others guessed

376

well enough, and now smiled on him merrily, when they The price of
saw how wild Folk-might stared. As for the Sun-beam, she the Bride
stood there blushing like a rose in June, but looking her
brother straight in the face, as Hall-ward said:

" Folk-might, chief of the Wolf, since thou wouldst take
our maiden the Bride away from us, I ask thee to make good
her place with this maiden ; so that the House of the Steer
may not lack, when they who are wont to wed therein come
to us and pray us for a bedfellow for the best of their kin-
dred."

Then became Folk-might smiling and merry like unto
the others, and he said : " Chief of the Steer, this gift is thine,
together with aught else which thou mayst desire of us."

Then he kissed the Sun-beam, and said: "Sister, we
looked for this to befall in some fashion. Yet we deemed that
he that should lead thee away might abide with us for a moon
or two. But now let all this be, since if thou art not to bear
children to the kindreds of Silverdale, yet shalt thou bear
them to their friends and fellows. And now choose what gift
thou wilt have of us to keep us in thy memory."

She said : " The memory of my people shall not fade from
me ; yet indeed I ask thee for a gift, to wit, Bow-may, and the
two sons of Wood-father that are left since Wood-wicked
was slain; and belike the elder and his wife will be fain to go
with their sons, and ye will not hinder them."

"Even so shall it be done," said Folk-might, and he was
silent a while, pondering; and then he said:

"Lo you, friends 1 doth it not seem strange to you that
peace sundereth as well as war? Indeed I deem it grievous
that ye shall have to miss your well-beloved kinswoman.
And for me, I am now grown so used to this woman my
sister, though at whiles she hath been masterful with me,
that I shall often turn about and think to speak to her, when
there lie long days of wood and waste betwixt her voice and

mine."

The Sun-beam laughed in his face, though the tears stood
in her eyes, as she said : " Keep up thine heart, brother ; for at

377

The least the way is shorter betwixt Burgdale and Silverdale than

Sun-beam betwixt life and death ; and the road we shall learn belike."
taken g a j^ Hall-face : " So it is that my brother is no ill woodman,

into the i j i ^. ^_ »>

Houseof as ye learned last autumn.

the Steer Iron-face smiled, but somewhat sadly ; for he beheld Face-

of-god, who had no eyes for anyone save the Sun-beam ; and
no marvel was that, for never had she looked fairer. And for-
sooth the War-leader was not utterly well-pleased ; for he
was deeming that there would be delaying of his wedding,
now that the Sun-beam was to become a maid of the Steer;
and in his mind he half deemed that it would be better if he
were to take her by the hand and lead her home through the
wild-wood, he and she alone; and she looked on him shyly,
as though she had a deeming of his thought. Albeit he knew
it might not be, that he, the chosen War-leader, should
trouble the peace of the kindred; for he wotted that all this
was done for peace' sake.

So Hall-ward stood forth and took the Sun-beam's right
hand in his, and said:

"Now do I take this maiden, Sun-beam of the kindred of
the Wolf, and lead her into the House of the Steer, to be in
all ways one of the maidens of our House, and towed in the
blood wherein we have been wont to wed. Neither from hence-
forth let anyone say that this woman is not of the blood of
the Steer; for we have given her our blood, and she is of us
duly and truly."

Thereafter they talked together merrily for a little, and
then turned toward the houses, for the sun was now down ;
and as they went Iron -face spake to his son, and said:

"Gold-mane, wilt thou verily keep thine oath to wed the
fairest woman in the world? By how much is this one fairer
than my dear daughter who shall no more dwell in mine
house?"

Said Face-of-god: "Yea, father, I shall keep mine oath;
for the Gods, who know much, know that when I swore last
Yule I was thinking of the fair woman going yonder beside
Hall-ward, and of none other."

378

in Rosedale

"Ah, son!" said Iron-face, "why didst thou beguile us? Dallach
Hadst thou but told us the truth then! " Alderman

"Yea, Alderman," said Face-of-god smiling, "and how
thou wouldest have raged against me then, when thou hast
scarce forgiven me now! In sooth, father, I feared to tell you
all : I was young; I was one against the world. Yea, yea; and
even that was sweet to me, so sorely as I loved her — Hast
thou forgotten, father? "

Iron-race smiled, and answered not; and so came they to
the house wherein they were guested.

CHAPTER LI V. TIDINGS OF DALLACH : A FOLK-
MOTE IN SILVERDALE.

THREE days thereafter came two swift runners from
Rosedale with tidings of Dallach. In all wise had he
thriven, and had slain many of the runaways, and had
come happily to Rosedale: therein by the mere shaking of
their swords had they all their will; for there were but a few
of the Dusky Warriors in the Dale, since the more part had
fared to the slaughter in Silver-stead. Now therefore had
Dallach been made Alderman of Rosedale ; and the Burg-
dalers who had gone with him should abide the coming
thither of the rest of the Burgdale Host, and meantime of
their coming should uphold the new Alderman in Rosedale.
Howbeit Dallach sent word that it was not to be doubted but
that many of the Dusky Men had escaped to the woods, and
should yet be the death of many a mother's son, unless it were
well looked to.

And now the more part of the Burgdale men and the Shep-
herds began to look toward home, albeit some amongst them
had not been ill-pleased to abide there yet a while; for life
was exceeding soft to them there, though they helped the
poor folk gladly in their husbandry. For especially the women
of the Dale, of whom many were very goodly, hankered after
the fair-faced tall Burgdalers, and were as kind to them as
might be. Forsooth not a few, both carles and queens, of the

379

Of the old thrall-folk prayed them of Burgdale to take them home

Wood- thither, that they might see new things and forget their old

landers torments once for all, yea, even in dreams. The Burgdalers

would not gainsay them, and there was no one else to hinder;
so that there went with the Burgdale men at their departure
hard on five score of the Silverdale folk who were not of the
kindreds.

And now was a great Folk-mote holden in Silverdale,
whereto the Burgdale men and the Shepherds were bidden ;
and thereat the War-leader gave out the morrow of the
morrow for the day of the departure of the Host. There also
were the matters of Silverdale duly ordered: the Men of the
Wolf would have had the Woodlanders dwell with them in
the fair-builded stead, and take to them of the goodly stone
houses there whattheywould;butthis they naysaid,choosing
rather to dwell in scattered houses, which they built for them-
selves at the utmost limit of the tillage.

Indeed, the most abode not even there a long while; for
they loved the wood and its deeds. So they went forth into
the wood, and cleared them space to dwell in, and builded
them halls such as they loved, and fell to their old woodland
crafts of charcoal-burning and hunting, wherein they throve
well. And good for Silverdale was their abiding there, since
they became a sure defence and stout outpost against all foe-
men. For the rest, wheresoever they dwelt, they were guest-
cherishing and blithe, and were well beloved by all people;
and they wedded with the other Houses of the Children of
the Wolf.

As to the other matters whereof they took rede at this
Folk-mote, they had mostly to do with the warding of the
Dale, and the learning of the delivered thralls to handle
weapons duly. For men deemed it most like that they would
have to meet other men of the kindred of the Felons; which
indeed fell out as the years wore.

Moreover, Folk-might (by the rede of Stone-face) sent
messengers to the Plain and the Cities, unto men whom he
Jcnew there, doing them to wit of the tidings of Silverdale,
380

and how that a peaceful and guest-loving people, having good Folk-might
storeof wares, now dwelt therein, so that chapmen might have will g* vc *«
recourse thither. Burgdalers

Lastly spake Folk-might and said : g

"Guests and brothers-in-arms,we have been lookingabout
our new house, which was our old one, and therein we find
great store of wares which we need not, and which we can but
use if ye use them. Of your kindness therefore we pray you
to take of those things what ye can easily carry. And if ye say
the way is long, as indeed it is, since ye are bent on going
through the wood to Rosedale, and so on to Burgdale, yet
shall we furnish you with beasts to bear your goods, and with
such wains as may pass through the woodland ways."

Then rose up Fox of Upton and said : " O Folk-might, and
ye men of the Wolf, be it known unto you, that if we have
done anything for your help in the winning of Silverdale,
we have thus done that we might help ourselves also, so that
we might live in peace henceforward, and that we might
have your friendship and fellowship therewithal, so that here
in Silverdale might wax a mighty folk who joined unto us
should be strong enough to face the whole world. Such are
the redes of wise men when they go a-warring. But we have
no will to go back home again made rich with your wealth ;
this hath been far from our thought in this matter."

And there went up a murmur from all the Burgdalers
yeasaying his word.

But Folk-might took up the word again and spake:

" Men of Burgdale and the Sheepcotes, what ye say is both
manly and friendly; yet, since we look to see a road made
plain through the woodland betwixt Burgdale and Silver-
dale, and that often ye shall face us i n the feast-hall, and whiles
stand beside us in the fray, we must needs pray you not to
shame us by departing empty-handed; for how then may we
look upon your faces again? Stone-face, my friend, thou art
old and wise ; therefore I bid thee to help us herein, and speak
for us to thy kindred, that they naysay us not in this matter."

Then stood up Stone-face and said: " Forsooth, friends,

3«i

Stone-fcce Folk-might is in the right herein ; for he may look for anger
speaketh from the wights that come and go betwixt his kindred and

the Gods, if they see us faring back giftless through the woods.
Moreover, now that ye have seen Silverdale, ye may wot
how rich a land it is of all good things, and able to bring forth
enough and to spare. And now meseemeth the Gods love this
Folk that shall dwell here; and they shall become a mighty
Folk, and a part of our very selves. Therefore let us take the
gifts of our friends, and thank them blithely. For surely, as
saith Folk-might, henceforth the wood shall become a road
betwixt us, and the thicket a halting-place for friends bearing
goodwill in their hands."

When he had spoken, men yeasaid his words and forbore
the gifts no longer ; and the Folk-mote sundered in all loving-
kindness.

CHAPTER LV. DEPARTURE FROM SILVER-
DALE.

ON the morrow of the morrow were the Burgdale men
and they of the Shepherds gathered together in the
Market-stead early in the morning, and they were all
ready for departure ; and the men of the Wolf and the Wood-
landers, and of thedeli vered thralls agreat many, stood round
about them grieving that they must go. There was much
talk between the folk of the Dale and the Guests, and many
promises were given and taken to come and go betwixt the
two Dales. There also were the men of the thrall-folk who
were to wend home with the Burgdalers; and they had been
stuffed with good things by the men of the kindreds, and
were as fain as might be.

As for the Sun-beam, she was somewhat out of herself at
first, being eager and restless beyond her wont, and yet at
whiles weeping-ripe when she called to mind that she was
now leaving all those things, the gain whereof had been a
dream to her both waking and sleeping for these years past.
But at last, as she stood in the door of the Mote-house, and
382

beheld all the throngof folk happy and friendly, it came over ThcSun-
her that she herself had done her full share to bring all this ***** on the
about, and that all those pleasant places of Silverdale now cve of dc ~
full of the goodly life of man would be there even as she had ********
striven for them, and that they would be a part of her left be-
hind, though she were dwelling otherwhere.

Therewithal she said to herself that it was now her part to
wield the life of men in Burgdale, and begin once more her
days of a chieftain and a swayer of the Folk, and the life of a
stirring woman, which the edge of the sword and the need
of the hard hand-play had taken out of her hands for a while,
making her as a child in the hands of the strong wielders of
the blades.

So now she became calm once more, and her face was clad
again with the full measure of that majesty of beauty which
had once overawed Face-of-god amidst his love of her ; and
folk beheld her and marvelled at her fairness, and said : " She
hath an inward sorrow at leaving the fair Dale wherein her
Fathers dwelt, and where her mother's ashes lie in earth."
Albeit now was her sorrow but little, and much was her hope,
and her foresight of days to be; though all the Dale, yea,
every leaf and twig of it whereby her teet had ever passed,
and each stone of the fair houses, was to her as a picture that
she could look on from henceforth for ever.

Of the Bride it is to be said that she was now much mended,
and she caused men bear her on a litter out into the Market-
place, that she might look on the departure of her folk. She
had seen Face-of-god once and again since the Day of Battle,
and each time had been kind and blithe with him ; and for
Iron-face, she loved him so well that she was ever loth to let
him depart from her, save when Folk-might was with her.

And now was the Alderman standing beside her, and she
said to him: <c Friend and kinsman, this is the day of depar-
ture, and though I must needs abide behind, and am content
to abide, yet doth mine heart ache with the sundering; for
to-morrow when I wake in the morning there will be no more
sending of a messenger to fetch thee to me. Indeed, great hath

383

The Bride been the love between me and my people, and nought hath
sendeth for come between us to mar it. Now, kinsman, I would see
Face-of-god Gold-mane, my cousin, that I may bid him farewell ; for who

knoweth if I shall see him again hereafter?"

Then went Iron-face and found Face-of-god where he
was speaking with Folk-might and the chieftains, and said
to him: "Come quickly, for thy cousin the Bride would
speak with thee.' '

Face-of-god reddened, and paled afterwards, but he went
along with his father silently; and his heart beat as he came
and stood before the litter whereas the Bride lay, clad all in
white and propped up on fair cushions of red silk. She was
frail to look on, and worn and pale yet; but he deemed that
she was very happy.

She smiled on him, and reached out her hand and said:
"Welcome once more, cousin 1 " And he held her hand
and kissed it, and was nigh weeping, so sore was he beset by
a throng of memories concerning her and him in the days
when they were little; and he bethought him of her loving-
kindness of past days, beyond that of most children, beyond
that of most maidens; and how there was nothing in his life
but she had a share in it, till the day when he found the Hall
on the Mountain.

So he said to her: " Kinswoman, is it well with thee?"
"Yea," she said, " I am now nigh whole of my hurts."
He was silent a while ; then he said :
"And otherwise art thou merry at heart? "
"Yea, indeed," said she; "yet thou wilt not find it hard
to deem that I am sorry of the sundering betwixt me and
Burgdale."

Again was he silent, and said in a while : " Dost thou deem
that I wrought that sundering?"

She smiled kindly on him and said: "Gold-mane, my play-
mate, thou art become a mighty warrior and a great chief;
but thou art not so mighty as that. Many things lay behind
the sundering which were neither thou nor I."

"Yet," said he, "it was but such a little time agone that all

3»4

things seemed so sure ; and we — to both of us was the outlook She biddeth
happy. " ki m fitf cwdl

" Let it be happy still," she said, " now begrudging is gone.
Belike the sundering came because we were so sure, and had
no defence against the wearing of the days; even as it fareth
with a folk that hath no foes."

He smiled and said: "Even as it hath befallen thy folk, O
Bride, a while ago."

She reddened, and reached her hand to him, and he took it
and held it,and said : "Shall I see thee again as thedays wear ?"

Said she : " O chieftain of the Folk, thou shalt have much
to do in Burgdale,and the way is long. Yet would I have thee
see my children. Forget not the token on my hand which
thou holdest. But now get thee to thy folk with no more
words; for after all, playmate, the sundering is grievous to
me, and I would not spin out the time thereof. Farewell 1 "

He said no more, but stooped down and kissed her lips,
and then turned from her, and took his ways to the head ot
the Host, and fell to asking and answering, and bidding and
arraying; and in a little time was his heart dancing with joy
to think of the days that lay before him, wherein now all
seemed happy.

So was all arrayed for departure when it lacked three hours
of noon. As Folk-might had promised, there were certain
light wains drawn by bullocks abiding the departure of the
Host, and of sumpter bullocks and horses no few; and all
these were laden with fair gifts of the Dale, as silver, and
raiment, and weapons.There were many things fair-wrought
in the time of the Sorrow, that henceforth should see but
little sorrow. Moreover, there was plenty of provision for
the way, both meal and wine, and sheep and neat; and all
things as fair as might be, and well-arrayed.

It was the Shepherds who were to lead the way ; and after
them were arrayed the men of the Vine and the Sickle; then
they of the Steer, the Bridge, and the Bull ; and lastly the
House of the Face, with old Stone-face leading them. The
Sun-beam was to journey along with the House of the Steer,
xv.cc 385

The Hc*t which had taken her in as a maiden of their blood ; and though
arrayed for she had so much liefer have fared with the House of the Face,
departure y et ^ wen t meekly as she was bidden, as one who has gotten
a great thing, and will make no stir about a small one.

Alongwith her were Wood-father and Wood-mother, and
Wood-wise, now whole of his hurt, and Wood-wont, and
Bow-may. Save Bow-may, they were not very joyous; for
they were fain of Silverdale, and it irked them to leave it;
moreover, they also had liefer have gone along with the
House of the War-leader.

Last of all went those people of the once thralls of the
Dusky Men who had cast in their lot with the Burgdalers,
and they were exceeding merry ; and especially the women of
them, they were chattering like the stares in the autumn
evening, when they gather from the fields in the tall elm-
trees before they go to roost-
Now all the men of the Dale, both of the kindreds and of
the thrall-folk, made way for the Host and its havings, that
they might go their ways down the Dale; albeit the Wood-
landers clung close to the line of their ancient friends, and
with them, as men who were sorry for the sundering, were
Wolf-stone and God-swain and Spear-fist. But the chiefs,
they drew around Folk-might a little beside the way.

Now Red-coat of Waterless, who had been hurt, and was
now whole again, cast his arms about Folk-might and kissed
him, and said:

"All the way hence to Burgdale will I sow with good wishes
for thee and thine, and especially for my dear friend God-
swain of the Silver Arm ; and I would wish and long that they
might turn into spells to draw thy feet tousward; for we love
thee well."

In like wise spake other of the Burgdalers ; and Folk-might
was kind and blithe with them, and he said:

"Friends, forget ye not that the way is no longer from you
to us than it is from us to you. One half of this matter it is for
you to deal with."

"True is that," said Red-beard of the Knolls, "but look
386

you, Folk-might, we be but simple husbandmen, and may Speech of the
not often stir from our meadows and acres ; even now I be- Chieftains
think me that May is amidst us, and I am beginning to be
drawn by the thought of the haysel. Whereas thou — " (and
therewith he reddened) " I doubt that thou hast little to do
save the work of chieftains, and we know that such work is
but little missed if it be undone/'

Thereat Folk-might laughed; and when the others saw
that he laughed, they laughed also, else had they foreborne
for courtesy's sake.

But Folk-might answered : " Nay, chief of the Sickle, I am
not altogether a chieftain, now we have gotten us peace ; and
somewhat of a husbandman shall I be. Moreover, doubt ye
not that I shall do my utmost to behold the fair Dale again ;
for it is but mountains that meet not."

Now spake Face-of-god to Folk-might, smilingand some-
what softly,and said : "Is all forgiven now, since the day when
we first felt each other's arms ? '

"Yea, all," said Folk-might; "now hath befallen what I
foretold thee in Shadowy Vale, that thou mightest pay for all
that had come and gone, if thou wouldest but look to it. In-
deed thou wert angry with me for that saying on that eve of
Shadowy Vale ; but see thou, in those days I was an older man
than thou, and might admonish thee somewhat; but now,
though but few days have gone over thine head, yet many
deeds have abided in thine hand, and thou art much aged.
Anger hath left thee, and wisdom hath waxed in thee. As for
me, I may now say this word : May the Folk of Burgdale love
the Folk of Silverdale as well as I love thee; then shall all be
well."

Then Face-of-god cast his arms about him and kissed him,
and turned away toward Stone-face and Hall-face hisbrother,
where they stood at the head of the array of the Face; and
even therewith came up the Alderman somewhat sad and
sober of countenance, and he pushed by the War-leader
roughly and would not speak with him.

And now blew up the horns of the Shepherds, and they
CC2 387

Now they
depart and
sing withal

They sing of
their dead

began to move on amidst the shouting of the men of Silver-
dale; yet were there amongst the Woodlanders those who
weptwhen they saw their friends verily departing from them.
But when they of the foremost of the Host were gotten so
far forward that the men of the Face could begin to move, lo!
there was Redesman with his fiddle amongst the leaders; and
he had done a man's work in the day of battle, and all looked
kindly on him. About him on this morn were some who had
learned the craft of singing well together, and knew his
minstrelsy, and he turned to these and nodded as their array
moved on, and he drew his bow across the strings, and
straightway they fell a-singing, even as it might be thus:

Back again to the dear Dale where born was the kindred,
Here wend we all living, and liveth our mirth.

Here afoot fares our jovance, whatever men hindred,
Through all wrath of the heavens, all storms of the earth.

O true, we have left here a part of our treasure,
The ashes of stout ones, the stems of the shield;

But the bold lives they spended have sown us new pleasure,
Fair tales for the telling in fold and on field.

For as oft as we sing of their edges* upheaving,

When the yellowing windows shine forth o'er the night,

Their names unforgotten with song interweaving

Shall draw forth dear drops from the depths of delight.

Or when down by our feet the grey sickles are lying,
And behind us is curling the supper-tide smoke,

No whit shall they grudge us the joyance undying,
Remembrance of men that put from us the yoke.

When the huddle of ewes from the fells we have driven,
And we see down the Dale the grey reach of the roof,

We shall tell of the gift in the battle-joy given,

All the fierceness of friends that drave sorrow aloof.
388

Once then we lamented, and mourned them departed ; They sing of

Once only, no oftener. Henceforth shall we fling &* Ijonie-

Their names up aloft, when the merriest hearted th"*? * t
To the Fathers unseen of our life-days we sing.

Then was there silence in the ranks of men; and many
murmured the names of the fallen as they fared on their way
from out the Market-place of Silver-stead. Then once more
Redesman and his mates took up the song:

Come tell me, O friends, for whom bideth the maiden

Wet-foot from the river-ford down in the Dale?
For whom hath the goodwife the ox-waggon laden

With the babble of children, brown-handed and hale?

Come tell me for what are the women abiding,

Till each on the other aweary they lean ?
Is it loitering of evil that thus they are chiding,

The slow-footed bearers of sorrow unseen?

Nay, yet were they toiling if sorrow had worn them,
Or hushed had they bided with lips parched and wan.

The birds of the air other tidings have borne them —
How glad through the wood goeth man beside man.

Then fare forth, O valiant, and loiter no longer
Than the cry of the cuckoo when May is at hand ;

Late waxeth the spring-tide, and daylight grows longer,
And nightly the star-street hangs high o'er the land.

Many lives, many days for the Dale do ye carry;

When the Host breaketh out from the thicket unshorn,
It shall be as the sun that refuseth to tarry

On the crown of all mornings, the Midsummer morn.

Again the song fell down till they were well on the western
way down Silverdale; and then Redesman handled his fiddle

389

wes

They sing of once more, and again the song rose up, and such-like were
the sunder- the words which were borne back into the Market-place of
ing of friends Silver-stead :

And yet what is this, and why fere ye so slowly,
While our echoing halls of our voices are dumb,

And abideth unlitten the hearth-brand the holy,
And the feet of the kind fere afield till we come?

For not yet through the wood and its tangle ye wander;

Now skirt we no thicket, no path by the mere;
Far aloof for our feet leads the Dale-road out yonder;

Full fair is the morning, its doings all clear.

There is nought now our feet on the highway delaying
Save the friend's loving-kindness, the sundering of
speech ;

The well-willer's word that ends words with the saying,
The loth to depart while each looketh on each.

Fare on then, for nought are ye laden with sorrow ;

The love of this land do ye bear with you still.
In two Dales of the earth for to-day and to-morrow

Is waxing the oak-tree of peace and good-will.

Thus then they departed from Silverdale, even as men
who were a portion thereof, and had not utterly left it behind.
And that night they lay in the wild-wood not very fer from
the Dale's end ; for they went softly, faring amongst so many
friends.

390

CHAPTER LVI. TALK UPON THE WILD-WOOD
WAY.

ON the morrow morning when they were on their way They talk of
again Face-of-god left his own folk to go with the dajntocomc
House of the Steer a while; and amongst them he
fell in with the Sun-beam going along with Bow-may. So
they greeted him kindly, and Face-of-god fell into talk with
the Sun-beam as they went side by side through a great oak-
wood, where for a space was plain green-sward bare of all
underwood.

So in their talk he said to her: "What deemest thou, my
speech -friend, concerning our coming back to guest in Sil-
verdale one day?"

"The way is long," she said.

" That may hinder us, but not stay us," said Face-of-god.

"That is sooth," said the Sun-beam.

Said Face-of-god: "What things shall stay us? Or
deemest thou that we shall never see Silverdale again?"

She smiled : " Even so I think thou deemest, Gold-mane.
But many things shall hinder us besides the long roadl "

Said he: "Yea, and what things?"

"Thinkest thou," said the Sun-beam, "that the winning
of Silver-stead is the last battle which thou shalt see? "

"Nay," said he, "nay."

"Shall thy Dale — our Dale — be free from all trouble
within itself henceforward? Is there a wall built round it to
keep out for ever storm, pestilence, and famine, and the way-
wardness of its own folk ? "

"So it is as thou sayest," quoth Face-of-god, "and to
meet such troubles and overcome them, or to die in strife
with them, this is a great part of a man's life."

"Yea," she said, "and hast thou forgotten that thou art
now a great chieftain, and that the folk shall look to thee to
use thee many days in the year ? "

He laughed and said : " So it is. How many days have gone

391

the wood

They wend by since I wandered in the wood last autumn, that the world
?* ^"F* 1 s ^ ou ld have changed so much 1 * '

"Many deeds shall now be in thy days," she said, "and
each deed as the corn of wheat from which cometh many
corns; and a man's days on the earth are not over many."

"Then farewell, Silverdalel " said he, waving his hand
toward the north. "War and trouble may bring me back to
thee, but it maybe nought else shall. Farewell 1"

She looked on him fondly but unsmiling, as he went
beside her strong and warrior-like. Three paces from him
went Bow-may, barefoot, in her white kirtle, but bearing her
bow in her hand; a leash of arrows was in her girdle, her
quiver hung at her back, and she was girt with a sword. On
the other side went Wood-wont and Wood-wise, lightly
clad but weaponed. Wood-mother was riding in an ox-wain
just behind them, and Wood-father went beside her bearing
an axe. Scattered all about them were the men of the Steer,
gaily clad, bearing weapons, so that the oak-wood was bright
with them, and the glades merry with their talk and singing
and laughter, and before them down the glades went the
banner of the Steer, and the White Beast led them the nearest
way to Burgdale.

CHAPTER LVII.HOW THE HOSTCAME HOME
AGAIN.

IT was fourteen days before they came to Rosedale; for
they had much baggage with them, and they had no mind
to weary themselves, and the wood was nothing loath-
some to them, whereas the weather was fair and bright for
the more part. They fell in with no mishap by the way. But a
score and three of runaways joined themselves to the Host,
having watched their goings and wotting that they were not
foemen. Of these, some had heard of the overthrow of the
Dusky Men in Silverdale, and others not. The Burgdalers
received them all, for it seemed to them no great matter for
a score or so of new-comers to the Dale.

But when the Host was come to Rosedale, they found it

39*

fair and lovely; and there they met with those of their folk The Host in

who had gone with Dallach. But Dallach welcomed the kin- Rosedale

dreds with great joy, and bade them abide; for he said that

they had the less need to hasten, since he had sent messengers

into Burgdale to tell men there of the tidings. Albeit they

were mostly loth to tarry; yet when he lay hard on them not

to depart as men on the morrow of a gild-feast, they abode

there three days, and were as well guested as might be, and

on their departure they were laden with gifts from the wealth

of Rosedale by Dallach and his folk.

Before they went their ways Dallach spake with Face-of-
god and the chiefs of the Dalesmen, and said :

"Ye have given me much from the time when ye found
me in the wood a naked wastrel ; yet now I would ask you a
gift to lay on the top of all that ye have given me."

Said Face-of-god : " Name the gift, and thou shalt have it;
for we deem thee our friend."

" I am no less," said Dallach, " as in time to come I may
perchance be able to show you. But now I am asking you to
suffer a score or two of your men to abide here with me this
summer, till I see how this folk new-born again is like to deal
with me. For pleasure and a fair life have become so strange
to them, that they scarce know what to do with them, or how
to live; and unless all is to go awry, I must needs command
and forbid; and though belike they love me, yet they fear me
not; so that when my commandment pleaseth them, they do
as I bid, and when it pleaseth them not, they do contrary to
my bidding; for it hath got into their minds that I shall in no
case lift a handagainst them, which indeed is the very sooth.
But your folk they fear as warriors of the world, who have
slain the Dusky Men in the Market-placeof Silver-stead ; and
they are of alien blood to them, men who will do as their friend
biddeth (think our folk) against them who are neither friends
or foes. With such help I shall be well holpen."

In such wise spake Dallach ; and Face-of- God and the chiefs
said that so it should be, if men could be found willing to a-
bide in Rosedale for a while. And when the matter was put

393

Some of the
young men
tarry with
Dallach in
Rosedale

abroad, there was no lack of such men amongst the younger
warriors, who had noted that the dale was fair amongst dales
and its women fairer yet amongst women.

So two score and ten of the Burgdale men abode in Rose-
dale, no one of whom was of more than twenty and five win-
ters. Forsooth divers of them set up house in Rosedale, and
never came back to Burgdale, save as guests. For a half score
werewedded in Rosedale before the year's en ding; and seven
more, who had also taken to them wives of the goodliest of
the Rosedale women, betook them the next spring to the
Burg of the Runaways, and there built them a stead, and drew
a garth about it, and dug and sowed the banks of the river,
which they called Inglebourne. And as years passed, this
same stead throve exceedingly,and men resorted thither both
from Rosedale and Burgdale; for it was a pleasant place; and
the land, when it was cured, was sweet and good, and the
wood thereabout was full of deer of all kinds. So their stead
was called Inglebourne after the stream ; and in latter days it
became a very goodly habitation of men.

Moreover, some of the once-enthralled folk of Rosedale,
when they knew that men of their kindred from Silverdale
were going home with the men of Burgdale to dwell in the
Dale, prayed hard to go along with them; for they looked on
the Burgdalers as if they were new Gods of the Earth. The
Burgdale chiefs would not gainsay these men either, but took
with them three score and ten from Rosedale, men and wo-
men, and promised them dwelling and livelihood in Burg-
dale.

So now with good hearts the Host of Burgdale turned
their faces toward their well-beloved Dale; and they made
good diligence, so that in three days' time they were come
anigh the edge of the woodland wilderness. Thither in the
even-tide, as they were making ready for their last supper
and bed in the wood, came three men and two women of
their folk, who had been abiding their coming ever since
they had had the tidings of Silverdale and the battles from
Dallach. Great was the joy of these messengers as they went

394

from company to company of the warriors, and saw the fa- The Host
miliar faces of their friends, and heard their wonted voices comethto
telling all the story of battle and slaughter. And for their part £ c c *&? of
the men of the Host feasted these stay-at-homes, and made urg
much of them. But one of them, a man of the House of the
Face, left the Host a little after nightfall, and bore back to
Burgstead at once the tidings of the coming home of the
Host Albeit since Dallach's tidings of victory had come to
the Dale, the dwellers in the steads of the country-side had
left Burgstead and gone home to their own houses; so that
there was no great multitude abiding in the Thorp.

So early on the morrow was the Host astir; but ere they
came to Wildlake's Way, the Shepherd-Folk turned aside
westward to go home, after they had bidden farewell to their
friends and fellows of the Dale ; for their souls longed for
the sheep-cotes in the winding valleys under the long grey
downs; and the garths where the last year's ricks shouldered
up against the old stone gables, and where the daws were
busy in the tall unfrequent ash-trees; and the green flowery
meadows adown along the bright streams, where the crow-
foot and the paigles were blooming now, and the harebells
were in flower about the thorn-bushes at the down's foot,
whence went the savour of their blossom over sheep-walk
and water-meadow.

So these went their ways with many kind words; and two
hours afterwards all the rest of the Host stood on the level
ground of the Portway ; but presently were the ranks of war
disordered and broken up by the joy of the women and child-
ren, as they fell to drawing goodman or brother or lover out
of the throng to the way thatled speediest to their homesteads
and halls. For the War-leader would not hold the Host to-
gether any longer, but suffered each man to go to his home,
deeming that tne men of Burgstead, and chiefly they of the
Face and the Steer, would suffice for a company if anv need
were, and they would be easily gathered to meet any nap.

So now the men of the Middle and Lower Dale made for
their houses by the road and the lanes and the meadows, and

395

Now hath
the Host
come home

the men of the Upper Dale and Burgstead went their ways
along the Portway toward their halls, with the throng of wo-
men and children that had come out to meet them. And now
men came home when it was yet early, and the long day lay
before them ; and it was, as it were, made giddy and cumbered
with the exceeding joy of return, and the thought of the day
when the fear of death and sundering had been ever in their
hearts. For these new hours were full of the kissing and em-
bracing of lovers, and the sweetness of renewed delightinbc-
holding the fair bodies so sorely desired, and hearkening the
soft wheedling of longed-for voices. There were the cups of
friends beneath the chestnut trees, and the talk of the deeds
of the fighting-men, and of the heavy days of the home-abid-
ers ; many a tale told oft and o'er again. There was the sing-
ing of old songs and of new, and the beholding the well-loved
nook of the pleasant places, which death might well have
made nought for them ; and they were sweet with the fear of
that which was past, and in their pleasantness was fresh pro-
mise for the days to come.

So amid their joyance came evening and nightfall; and
though folk were weary with the fulness of delight, yet now
for many their weariness led them to the chamber of love
before the rest of deep night came to them to make them
strong for the happy life to be begun again on the morrow.

House by house they feasted, and few were the lovers that
sat not together that even. But Face-of-god and the Sun-
beam parted at the door of the House of the Face; for needs
must she go with her new folk to the House of the Steer,
and needs must Face-of-god be amongst his own folk in that
hour of high-tide, and sit beside his father beneath the image
of the God with the ray-begirt head.

396

CHAPTER LVIII. HOW THE MAIDEN WARD
WAS HELD IN BURGDALE.

NOW May was well worn when the Host came home Folk look to
to Burgdale; and on the very morrow of men's home- the Maiden
coming they began to talk eagerly of the Midsummer Ward
Weddings, and how the Maiden Ward would be the greatest
and fairest of all yet seen, whereas battle and the deliverance
from battle stir up the longing and love both of men and
maidens; much also men spake of the wedding of Face-of-
god and the Sun-beam; and needs must their wedding abide
to the time of the Maiden Ward at Midsummer, and needs
also must the Sun-beam go on the Ward with the other
Brides of the Folk. So then must Face-of-god keep his soul
in patience till those few days were over, doing what work
came to hand; and he held his head high among the people,
and was well looked to of every man.

In all matters the Sun-beam helped him, both in doing
and in forbearing; and now so wonderful and rare was her
beauty, that folk looked on her with somewhat of fear, as
though she came from the very folk of the Gods.

Indeed she seemed somewhat changed from what she had
been of late; she was sober of demeanour during these last
days of her maidenhood, and sat amongst the kindred as one
communing with herself: of few words she was and little
laughter; but her face clear, not overcast by any gloom or
shaken by passion: soft and kind was she in converse with
others, and sweet were the smiles that came into her face if
others* feces seemed to crave for them. For it must be said
that as some folk eat out their hearts with fear of the coming
evils, even so was she feeding her soul with the joy of the
days to be, whatever trouble might fell upon them, whereof
belike she foreboded some.

So wore the days toward Midsummer, when the wheat
was getting past the blossoming, and the grass in the mown
fields was growing deep green again after the shearing of the
scythe; when the leaves were most and biggest; when the

397

The gather-
ing of
the Brides

roses were beginning to fall; when the apples were redden-
ing, and the skins of the grape-berries gathering bloom.
High aloft floated the light clouds over the Dale; deep blue
showed the distant fells below the ice-mountains; the waters
dwindled ; all things sought the shadow by daytime, and the
twilight of even and the twilight of dawn werebut sundered
by three hours of half-dark night.

So in the bright forenoon were seventeen brides assembled
in the Gate of Burgstead (but of the rest of the Dale were
twenty and three looked for), and with these was the Sun-
beam, her face as calm as the mountain lake under a summer
sunset, while of the others many were restless, and babbling
like April throstles; and not a few talked to her eagerly, and
in their restless love of her dragged her about hither and
thither.

No men were to be seen that morning; for such was the
custom, that the carles either departed to the fields and the
acres, or abode within doors on the morn of the day of the
Maiden Ward; but there was a throng of women about
the Gate and down the street of Burgstead, and it may well
be deemed that they kept not silence that hour.

So fared the Brides ofBurgstead to the place of the Maiden
Ward on the causeway, whereto were come already the other
brides from steads up and down the Dale, or were even then
close at hand on the way; and among them were Long-coat
and her two fellows, with whom Face-of-god had held con-
verse on that morning whereon he had followed his fate to
the Mountain.

There then were they gathered under the cliff-wall of the
Portway ; and by the road-side had their grooms built them
up bowers of green boughs to shelter them from the sun's
burning, which were thatched with bulrushes, and decked
with garlands of the fairest flowers of the meadows and the
gardens.

Forsooth they were a lovely sight to look on, for no fairer
women might be seen in the world; and the eldest of them
was scant of five and twenty winters. Everymaiden was clad

398

in as goodly raiment as she might compass ; their sleeves and The array of
gown-hems and girdles, yea, their very shoes and sandals tllc Brides
were embroidered so fairly and closely, that as they shifted
in the sun they changed colour like the king-fisher shoot-
ing from shadow to sunshine. According to due custom
every maiden bore some weapon. A few had bows in their
hands and quivers at their backs; some had nought but a
sword girt to their sides; some bore slender-shafted spears,
so as not to overburden their shapely hands; but to some it
seemed a merry game to carry long and heavy thrust-spears,
or to bear great war-axes over their shoulders. Most had
their flowing hair coifed with bright helms; some had bur-
dened their arms with shields; some bore steel hauberks
over their linen smocks: almost all had some piece of war-

fear on their bodies; and one, to wit, Steed-linden of the
ickle, a tall and fair damsel, was so arrayed that no garment
could be seen on her but bright steel war-gear.

As for the Sun-beam, she was clad in a white kirtle em-
broidered from throat to hem with work of green boughs
and flowers of the goodliest fashion, and a garland of roses
on her head. Dale-warden himself was girt to her side by a
girdle fair-wrought of golden wire, and she bore no other
weapon or war-gear; and she let him lie quiet in his scab-
bard, nor touched the hilts once; whereas some of the other
damsels would be ever drawing their swords out and thrust-
ing them back. But all noted that goodly weapon, the yoke-
fellow of so many great deeds.

There then on the Portway, between the water and the
rock-wall, rose up plenteous and gleeful talk of clear voices
shrill and soft; and whiles the maidens sang, and whiles they
told tales of old days,and whiles theyjoined hands and danced
together on the sweet summer dust of the highway. Then
they mostly grew aweary, and sat down on the banks of the
road or under their leafy bowers.

Noon came, and therewithal goodwivesof the neighbour-
ing Dale, who brought them meat and drink, and fruit and
fresh flowers from the teeming gardens ; and thereafter for a

399

They bar the while they nursed their joy in their bosoms, and spake but
road to new- little and softly while the day was at its hottest in the early
comers afternoon.

Then came out of Burgstead men making semblance of
chapmen with a wain bearing wares, and they made as though
they were wending down the Portway westward to go out of
the Dale. Then arose the weaponed maidens and barred the
way to them, and turned them back amidst fresh-springing
merriment.

Again in a while, when the sun was westering and the
shadows growing long, came herdsmen from down the Dale
driving neat, and making as though they would pass by into
Burgstead, but to them also did the maidens gainsay the road,
so that needs must they turn back amidst laughter and mock-
ery, they themselves also laughing and mocking.

And so at last, when the maidens had been all alone a while,
and it was now hard on sunset, they drew together and stood
in a ring, and fell to singing; and one Gold-may of the House
of the Bridge, a most sweet singer, stood amidst their ring
and led them. And this is somewhat of the meaning of their
words:

The sun will not tarry; now changeth the light,
Fail the colours that marry the Day to the Night.

Amid the sun's burning bright weapons we bore,
For this eve of our earning comes once and no more.

For to-day hath no brother in yesterday's tide,
And to-morrow no other alike it doth hide.

This day is the token of oath and behest

That ne'er shall be broken through ill days and best.

Here the troth hath been given, the oath hath been done,
To the Folk that hath thriven well under the sun.

And the gifts of its giving our troth-day shall win
Are the Dale for our living and dear days therein.

400

O Sun, now thou wancst ! yet come back and see The Brides

Amidst all that thou gainest how gainful are we. 8in 8 together

O witness of sorrow wide over the earth,
Rise up on the morrow to look on our mirth !

Thy blooms art thou bringing back ever for men,
And thy birds are a-singing each summer again.

But to men little-hearted what winter is worse

Than thy summers departed that bore them the curse?

And e'en such art thou knowing where thriveth the year,
And good is all growing save thralldom and fear.

Nought such be our lovers 9 hearts drawing anigh,
While yet thy light hovers aloft in the sky.

Lo the seeker, the finder of Death in the Blade!
What lips shall be kinder on lips of mine laid?

Lo he that hath driven back tribes of the South!
Sweet-breathed is thine even, but sweeter his mouth.

Come back from the sea then, O sun ! come aback,
Look adown, look on me then, and ask what I lack!

Come many a morrow to gaze on the Dale,
And if e'er thou seest sorrow remember its tale!

For 'twill be of a stonr to tell how men died
In the garnering of glory that no man may hide.

O sun sinking under! O fragrance of earth!

O heart! O the wonder whence longing has birth!

So they sang, and the sun sank indeed ; and amidst their

singing the eve was still about them, though there came a

happy murmur from the face of the meadows and the houses

of the Thorp aloof. But as their song fell they heard the sound

xv. dd 401

Here come of footsteps a many on the road; so they turned and stood
the Grooms w ith beating hearts in such order as when a band of the valiant

draw together to meet many foes coming on them from all
sides, and they stand back to back to face all comers. And even
therewi th, their rai ment gleaming amidst the gathering dusk,
came on them the young men of the Dale newly delivered
from the grief of war.

Then in very deed the fierce mouths of the raisers of the
war-shout were kind on the faces of tender maidens. Then
went spear and axe and helm and shield clattering to the
earth, as the arms of the new-comers went round about the
bodies of the Brides, weary with the long day of sunshine,
and glee and loving speech, and the maidens suffered the
young men to lead them whither they would, and twilight
began to draw round about them as the Maiden Band was
sundered.

Some, they were led away westward down the Portway to
the homesteads thereabout ; and for divers of these the way
was long to their halls, and they would have to wend over
long stretches of dewy meadows, and hear the night-wind
whisper in many a tree, and see the east begin to lighten with
the dawn before they came to the lighted feast that awaited
them. But some turned up the Portway straight towards
Burgstead; and short was their road to the halls where even
now the lights were being kindled for their greeting.

As for the Sun-beam, she had been very quiet the day long,
speaking as little as she might do, laughing not at all, and
smiling for kindness' sake rather than for merriment; and
when the grooms came seeking their maidens, she withdrew
herself from the band, and stood alone amidst the road nigh-
er to Burgstead than they; and her heart beat hard, and her
breath came short and quick, as though fear had caught her
in its grip; and indeed for one moment of time she feared
that he was not coming to her. For he had gone with the
other grooms to that gathered band, and had passed from
one to the other, not finding her, till he had got him through
the whole company, and beheld her awaiting him. Then in-
402

deed he bounded toward her, and caught her by the hands, Gold-mane
and then by the shoulders, and drew her to him, and she and the
nothing loth ; and in that while he said to her : Sun-beam

<c Come then, my friend; lo thou! they go each their own
way toward the halls of their houses; and for thee have I
chosen a way — a way over the foot-bridge yonder, and over
the dewy meadows on this best even of the year."

" Nay, nay," she said, <c it may not be. Surely the Burg-
stead grooms look to thee to lead them to the gate; and
surely in the House of the Face they look to see thee before
any other. Nay, Gold-mane, my dear, we must needs go by
the Portway."

He said : <c We shall be home but a very little while after
the first, for the way I tell of is as short as the Portway. But
hearken, my sweet ! When we are in the meadows we shall sit
down for a minute on a bank under the chestnut trees, and
thence watch the moon coming up over the southern cliffs.
And I shall behold thee in the summer night, and deem that
I see all thy beauty; which yet shall make me dumb with
wonder when I see it indeed in the house amongst the can-
dles."

" O nay," she said, " by the Portway shall we go; the
torch-bearers shall be abiding thee at the gate."

Spake Face-of-god: "Then shall we rise up and wend
first through a wide treeless meadow, wherein amidst the
night we shall behold the kine moving about like odorous
shadows; and through the greyness of the moonlight thou
shalt deem that thou seest the pink colour of the eglantine
blossoms, so fragrant they are."

"O nay," she said, "but it is meet that we go by the Port-
way."

But he said : c< Then from the wide meadow come we into
a close of corn, and then into an orchard-close beyond it.
There in the ancient walnut-tree the owl sitteth breathing
hard in the night-time; but thou shalt not hear him for the
joy of the nightingales singing from the apple-trees of the
close. Then from out of the shadowed orchard shall we
DD2 403

He tdlcth of come into the open town-meadow, and over its daisies shall

the Path of the moonlight be lying in a grey flood of brightness.

the Wedding « Short is thc way across it tQ the brim Q f the Weltering

Water, and across the water lieth the fair garden of the Face;
and I have dight for thee there a little boat to waft us across
the night-dark waters, that shall be like wavering flames of
white fire where the moon smites them, and like the void of
all things where the shadows hang over them. There then
shall we be in the garden, beholding how the hall-windows
are yellow, and hearkening the sound of the hall-glee borne
across the flowers and blending with the voice of the night-
ingales in the trees. There then shall we go along the grass
paths whereby the pinks and the cloves and the lavender are
sending forth their fragrance, to cheer us, who faint at the
scent of the over-worn roses, and the honey-sweetness of the
lilies.

"All this is for thee, and for nought but for thee this even ;
and many a blossom whereof thou knowest nought shall
grieve if thy foot tread not thereby to-night; if the path of
thy wedding which I have made, be void of thee, on the even
ofthe Chamber of Love.

"But lo ! at last at the garden's end is the yew-walk arched
over for thee, and thou canst not see whereby to enter it ; but
I, I know it, and I lead thee into and along the dark tunnel
through the moonlight, and thine hand is not weary of mine
as we go. But at the end shall we come to a wicket, which
shall bring us out by the gable-end of the Hall of the Face.
Turn we about its corner then, and there are we blinking on
the torches of the torch-bearers, and the candles through thc
open door, and the hall ablaze with light and full of joyous
clamour, like the bale-fire in the dark night kindled on a
ness above the sea by fisher-folk remembering the Gods."

" O nay," she said, cc but by the Portwav must we go; the
straightest way to the Gate of Burgstead/

In vain she spake, and knew not what she said ; for even as
he was speaking he led her away, and herfeet went as her will
went, rather than her words; and even as she said that last
404

word she set her foot on the first board of the foot-bridge; They wend
and she turned aback one moment, and saw the long line of the Wedding
the rock-wall yet glowing with the last of the sunset of mid- Pa *~ to ~
summer, while as she turned again, lol before her the moon
just beginning to lift himself above the edge of the southern
cliffs, and betwixt her and him all Burgdale,and Face-of-god
moreover*

Thus then they crossed the bridge into the green mea-
dows, and through the closes and into the garden of the Face
and unto the Hall-door; and other brides and grooms were
there before them (for six grooms had brought home brides
to the House of the Face) ; but none deemed it amiss in the
War-leader of the folk and the love that had led him. And
old Stone-face said: " Too many are the rows of bee-skeps
in the gardens of the Dale that we should begrudge wayward
lovers an hour's waste of candle-light."

So at last those twain went up the sun-bright Hall hand
in hand in all their loveliness, and up on to the dais, and
stood together by the middle seat ; and the tumult of the joy
of the kindred was hushed for a while as they saw that there
was speech in the mouth of the War-leader.

Then he spread his hands abroad before them all and cried
out: "How then have I kept mine oath, whereas I swore on
the Holy Boar to wed the fairest woman of the world?"

A mighty shout went rattling about the timbers of the
roof in answer to his word; and they that looked up to the
gable of the Hall said that they saw the ray-ringed image of
the God smile with joy over the gathered folk.

But spake Iron-face unheard amidst the clamour of the
Hall : " How fares it now with my darling and my daughter,
who dwelleth amongst strangers in the land beyond the wild-
wood?"

405

CHAPTER LIX.THE BEHEST OF FACE-OF-GOD
TO THE BRIDE ACCOMPLISHED : A MOTE-
STEAD APPOINTED FOR THE THREE FOLKS,
TO WIT, THE MEN OF BURGDALE, THE SHEP-
HERDS, AND THE CHILDREN OF THE WOLF.

The oath ac- r T" 1 HREE years and two months thereafter, three hours
complished I a fter noon in the days of early autumn, came a wain

A tilted over with precious webs of doth, and drawn
by eight white oxen, into the Market-place of Silver-stead:
two score and ten of spearmen of the tallest, clad in goodly
war-gear, went beside it, and much people of Silverdale
thronged about them. The wain stayed at the foot of the stair
that led up to the door of the Mote-house, and there lighted
down therefrom a woman goodly of fashion, with wide grey
eyes, and face and hands brown with the sun's burning. She
had a helm on her head and a sword girt to her side, and in
her arms she bore a yearling child.

And there was come Bow-may with the second man-child
born to Face-of-god.

She stayed not amidst the wondering folk, but hastened
up the stair, which she had once seen running with the blood
of men: the door was open, and she went in and walked
straightway, with the babe in her arms, up the great Hall to
the dais.

There were men on the dais: amidmost sat Folk-might,
little changed since the last day she had seen him, yet fairer,
she deemed, than of old time; and her heart went forth to
meet the Chieftain of her Folk, and the glad tears started in
her eyes and ran down her cheeks as she drew near to him.

By his side sat the Bride, and her also Bow-may deemed
to have waxed goodlier. Both she and Folk-might knew
Bow-may ere she had gone half the length of the hall; and
the Bride rose up in her place and cried out Bow-may's name
joyously.

With these were sitting the elders of the Wolf and the
Woodlanders, the more part of whom Bow-may knew well*
406

On the dais also stood aside a score of men weaponed, and Bow-may in
looking as if they were awaiting the word which should send the Mote-
them forth on some errand. sT^dd

Now stood up Folk-might and said: cc Fair greeting and ! vcr
love to my friend and the daughter of my Folkl How rarest
thou, Bow-may, best of all friendly women? How fareth my
sister, and Face-of-god my brother? and how is it with our
friends and helpers in the goodly Dale?"

Said Bow-may : " 1 1 is well both with all those and with me ;
and my heart laughs to see thee, Folk-might, and to look on
the elders of the valiant, and our lovely sister the Bride. But
I have a message for thee from Face-of-god : wilt thou that I
deliver it here?"

"Yea surely," said Folk-might, and came forth and took
her hand, and kissed her cheeks and her mouth. The Bride
also came forth and cast her arms about her, and kissed her;
and they led her between them to a seat on the dais beside
Folk-might.

But all men looked on the child in her arms and wondered
what it was. But Bow-may took the babe, which was both
fair and great, and set it on the knees of the Bride, and said:

"Thus saith Face-of-god: c Friend and kinswoman, well-
beloved playmate, the gift which thou badest of me in sorrow
do thou now take in joy, and do all the good thou wouldest
to the son of thy friend. The ring which I gave thee once in
the garden of the Face, give thou to Bow-may, my trusty and
well-beloved, in token of the fulfilment of my behest.' "

Then the Bride kissed Bow-may again, and fell to fondling The Bride
of the child, which was loth to leave Bow-may. taketh Gold-

But she spake again : " To thee also, Folk-might, I have a ™ nc ' s babc -
message from Face-of-god, who saith: € Mighty warrior, Y^^ltit
friend and fellow, all things thrive with us, and we are happy.
Yet is there a hollow place in our hearts which grieveth us,
and only thou and thine may amend it Though whiles we
hear tell of thee, yet we see thee not, and fain were we, might
we see thee, and wot if the said tales be true. Wilt thou help
us somewhat herein, or wilt thou leave us all the labour? For

407

A message to sure we be that thou wilt not say that thou rememberest us
Face-of-god n o more, and that thy love for us is departed.' This is his

message, Folk-might, and he would have an answer from
thee."

Then laughed Folk-might and said: "Sister Bow-may,
seest thou these weaponed men hereby? "
"Yea," she said.

Said he: "These men bear a message with them to Face-
of-god mv brother. Crow the Shaft-speeder, stand forth and
tell thy friend Bow-may the message I have set in thy mouth,
every word of it."

Then Crow stood forth and greeted Bow-may friendly,
and said : " Friend Bow-may, this is the message of our Alder-
man : ' Friend and helper, in the Dale which thou hast given
to us do all things thrive; neither are we grown old in three
years' wearing, nor are our memories worsened. We long
sore to see you and give you guesting in Silverdale, and one
day that shall befall. Meanwhile, know this: that we of the
Wolf and the Woodland, mindful of the earth that bore us,
and the pit whence we were digged, have a mind to go see
Shadowy Vale once in every three years, and there to hold
high-tide in the ancient Hall of the Wolf, and sit in the
Doom-ring of our Fathers. But since ye have joined your-
selves to us in battle, and have given us this Dale, our health
and wealth, without price and without reward, we deem you
our very brethren, and small shall be our hall-glee, and barren
shall our Doom-ring seem to us, unless ye sit there beside us.
Come then, that we may rejoice each other by the sight of
face and sound of voice ; that we may speak together of matters
that concern our welfare; so that we three Kindreds may be-
come one Folk. And if this seem good to you, know that we
shall be in Shadowy Vale in a half-month's wearing. Grieve
us not by forbearing to come.' Lo, Bow-may, this is the
message, and I have learned it well, for well it pleaseth me to
bear it."

Then said Folk-might: "What sayst thou to the message,
Bow-may?"
408

" It is good in all ways," said she, "but is it timely? May Bow-may
our folk have the message and get to Shadowy Vale, so as to tells of her
meet you there?" wcddin *

"Yea surely," said Folk-might, "for our kinsmen here
shall take the road through Shadowy Vale, and in four days*
time they shall be in Burgdale, and as thou wottest, it is scant
a two days* journey thence to Shadowy Vale."

Therewith he turned to those men again, and said : " Kins-
man Crow, depart now, and use all diligence with thy mes-
sage."

So the messengers began to stir; but Bow-may cried out:
<c Ho! Folk-might, my friend, I perceive thou art little
changed from the man 1 knew in Shadowy Vale, who would
have his dinner before the fowl were plucked. For shall I not
go back with these thy messengers, so that I also may get all
ready to wend to the Mote-house of Shadowy Vale? "

But the Bride looked kindly on her, and laughed and said:
"Sister Bow-may, his meaning is that thou shouldest abide
here in Silverdale till we depart for the Folk-thing,and then
go thither with us; and this I also pray thee to do, that thou
mayst rejoice the hearts of thine old friends; and also that
thou mayst teach me all that I should know concerning this
fair child of my brother and my sister."

And she looked on her so kindly as she caressed the babe,
that Bow-may's heart melted, and she cried out:

"Would that I might never depart from the house wherein
thou dwellest, O Bride of my Kinsman! And this that thou
biddest me is easy and pleasant for me to do. But afterwards
I must get me back to Burgdale ; for I seem to have left much
there that calleth for me."

"Yea," said Folk-might, "and art thou wedded, Bow-
may? Shalt thou never bend the yew in battle again? "

Said Bow-may soberly : " Who knoweth, chieftain? Yea, I
am wedded now these two years ; and nought I looked for
less when I followed those twain through the wild-wood to
Burgdale."

She sighed therewith, and said: "In all the Dale there is

409

They meet no better man of his hands than my man, nor any goodlier to
in Shadowy i 00 k on, and he is even that Hart of Highcliffwhom thou
Valc knowest well, O Bride! "

Said the Bride: "Thou sayest sooth, there is no better
man in the Dale. 9 '

Said Bow-may: "Sun-beam bade me wed him when he
pressed hard upon me." She stayed awhile, and then said:
" Face-of-god also deemed I should not nay say the man ; and
now my son by him is of like age to this little one."

"Good is thy story," said Folk-might; "or deemest thou,
Bow-may, that such strong and goodly women as thou, and
women so kind and friendly, should forbear the wedding
and the bringing forth of children? Yea, and we who may
even yet have to gather to another field before we die, and
fight for life and the goods of life."

"Thou sayest well," she said; "all that hath befallen me
is good since the day whereon I loosed shaft from the break
ofthe bent over yonder."

Therewith she fell a-musing, and made as though she
were hearkening to the soft voice ofthe Bride caressing the
new-come baby ;but in sooth neither heard nor sawwhat was

foing on about her, for her thoughts were in bygone days,
iowbeit presently she came to herself again, and fell to ask-
ing many questions concerning Silverdale and the kindred,
and those who had once been thralls ofthe Dusky Men ; and
they answered all duly, and told her the whole story of the
Dale since the Day ofthe Victory.

So Bow-may and the carles who had come with her abode
for that half-month in Silverdale, guested in all love by the
folk thereof, both the kindreds and the poor folk. And Bow-
may deemed that the Bride loved Face-of-god 's child little
less than her own, whereof she had two, a man and a woman ;
and thereat was she full of joy, since she knew that Face-of-
god and the Sun-beam would be fain thereof.

Thereafter, when the time was come, fared Folk-might
and the Bride, and many of the elders and warriors of the
Wolf and the Woodland, to Shadowy Vale; and Dallach and
410

the best of Rosedale went with them, being so bidden ; and Those kin-
Bow-may and her following, according to the word of the dredsgrow
Bride. And in Shadowy Vale they met Face-of-god and Alder- intoonc Folk
man Iron-face, and the chiefs of Burgdale and the Shepherds,
and many others ; and great joy there was at the meeting. And
the Sun-beam remembered the word which she spoke to
Face-of-god when first he came to Shadowy Vale, that she
would be wishful to see again the dwelling wherein she had

Bissed through so much jovand sorrow other younger days,
ut if anyone were fain of this meeting, the Alderman was
glad above all, when he took the Bride once more in his arms,
and caressed her whom he had deemed should be a very
daughter of his House.

Now telleth the tale of all these kindreds, to wit, the Men
of Burgdale and the Sheepcotes; and the Children of the
Wolf, and the Woodlanders, and the Men of Rosedale,
that they were friends henceforth, and became as one Folk,
for better or worse, in peace and in war, in waning and waxing;
and that whatsoever befell them, they ever held Shadowy
Vale a holy place, and for long and long after they met there
in mid-autumn, and held converse and counsel together.

NO MORE AS NOW TELLETH THE TALE OF
THESE KINDREDS AND FOLKS, BUT MAKETH
AN ENDING.

411

PRINTED BY W. H. SMITH AND SON AT
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